God, If You're There, Say Hi To My Bud Joe For Me
by razmatazz
Summary: They've always been known as 'Bert and Ernie', but what if one day, Ernie wasn't there anymore? Non-slash JoeyChandler...mostly Chandler angst but has Joey and the others all the same
1. Chandler? You awake?

Disclaimer: I own nothing

"Chan? Chandler?"

A voice interrupted my dreams and forced me to open my eyes.  I had been having a nice dream.  Nicer than the ones I usually have and I'd been warm, too.  It had been raining the whole night and my bed was the only spot in the whole apartment where I'd been comfortable.  I'd have wanted it to stay that way but apparently, somebody had other plans.

At first, everything I saw was a blur, then when my eyes cleared, I turned around and propped myself out of my elbows.

"Yaaarrrghh!!"

Something was standing beside my bed! Some god-awful creature that knew my name was standing beside my bed!!

I turned on the lamp in a hurry, thinking maybe it would vanish the moment the light hit it like some sort of vampire.

"Hey, hey, cool it.  What's wrong with you?"

Joey stood over me like some ghost in a white t-shirt and boxers (which I know he just put on), clutching Hugsy, his toy penguin, by the unfortunate mammal's wing.  His hair was sticking out in all directions and he had that look on his face that told me there was something on his mind.  Most of the time, that 'something' isn't worth any of my attention.

"Joey! What the hell do you think you're doing?" I clutched my chest, trying to calm my racing heart.  "God, you scared the bejeezus out of me,"

He looked confused.  "I thought that 'Lord of the Dance' guy was the one…"

"Never mind," I said. "What are you doing here?"

My heart was still pounding but not that much anymore.  I looked at Joey, who didn't seem to want to talk, then after a minute, lay back down to get to sleep again.

"Okay, thanks for scaring me, Joe, now go back to bed," I said, reaching out to turn off the lamp.

"Wait a minute!" he said, stopping my arm.  I threw him an annoyed glare.

"What?" I asked again.

"Chandler…can I ask you a question?"

I gave him a withered look.

"Well you're obviously here for _something_, aren't you?" I told him.  I wasn't that patient with him that moment.  It was too early in the morning, I'd almost pissed in fright and he'd made me feel the cold in the room again.  I'd been hoping to stay asleep until at least dawn broke so I could turn up the thermostat a little without Monica knowing.

"Well…" Joey folded his arms, Hugsy dangling helplessly from his grip, and started shrugging.

I waited, mentally counting down from 10.  If he still wasn't going to tell me just what exactly was it that he wanted before the countdown ended, I was going to go back to sleep, never mind what he'd say.

"Well, _what, _Tribianni?" I asked him impatiently.

When he didn't answer right away, I lay back down again and reached out to turn the lamp off…

"Wait! I'm gonna ask you already,"

I turned to him one last time, scolding myself mentally for not being able to discipline myself. 

"Last chance,"

"What happens now?" he looked at me the same way a five-year-old would if he'd be asking about his parents' divorce.

"_What?_"

What was he asking me? I couldn't believe I was robbed of my sleep just for it.

"After all you guys…you know…what happens to me?"

He looked at me in the eye and I started to wonder if he was high on something.  After a minute of staring, I snuggled up under the covers again and this time turned the light off.

"Go to sleep, Joe,"

"Chandler, I'm serious---" he whined.

"You'll be fine, now go back to sleep," I told him.

"But listen to me a little first…"

I sat up as if a rocket had suddenly been shoved up my ass.

"Joey, it's 3:00 in the morning.  I'm trying to _sleep.  _If you listen closely, you'll hear the whole of New York snoring!"

I couldn't help yelling a little.  Joey looked hurt when I finished but tried hard not to show it.  I knew that look and I knew I had caused it, but I didn't care at the moment.  In fact, I didn't care about anything else aside from waking Monica up with my voice.

"_You _have Rachel, what do you need to wake me up in the middle of the night for?"

"She's scary, Chandler," he said. "And she wouldn't understand.  She threatened to throw Hugsy out of the window if I woke her up again,"

"Oh I can _be _scary," I assured him.  "And I can do worse things to Hugsy if you don't leave me alone right now and let me sleep,"

I could only see him with the help of the moon shining through the window so I couldn't see his next expression clearly.  But, thank God, he turned to leave.

"Okay, okay, sorry, man," he said apologetically.  "Sorry if I bothered you or anything…"

"Oh you didn't bother me at _all, _man," I said sarcastically.

I got ready to sleep, my back to the door.

"Good night, Chan,"

"Good _morning, _Joe," I muttered, hearing the door click shut.

I closed my eyes and tried to regain my stolen slumber.  I was just settling in when I heard the door open again.

Damn it.

"Joey—" I sputtered angrily.

"Hey, you do know that when you need something in the middle of the night, I'm your man, right?" said Joey, his head poking through.

"If it's a baseball bat to knock you out I think Monica can provide it for me, thanks," I told him dryly.  He didn't seem to get the point.

"Great! Just so you know,"

He shut the door again and I let myself fall back on the pillows.

Man.

_Now _I was wide awake.   


	2. Whoops

"Good morning, babe,"

I grunted and opened my eyes as I heard the whisper in my ear.  A light kiss landed on my temple and I turned my head to see Monica, her face inches from mine, smiling at me.  I instantly smiled back.

"Hi," I said softly. "What time is it?"

"8:00.  Get up, babe," She threw the covers off me and I groaned, curling up in a fetal position.  I was still sleepy.

"It's Saturday, Mon," I said.  "Why do we have to get up so early?"

"So we can meet up with the wedding planner, remember?"

"And what time will that be?"

"1:00," came the immediate reply.

I groaned, louder this time.  "_Mon…_"

"C'mon, c'mon…" she got a hold of my hands and attempted to pull me out of bed.  "I promise, if you get up now, there'll be a hot shower waiting for you…oops, did I say 'you'? I meant 'us'…"

She gave me a naughty smile and immediately, I felt energized.  I sat up and reached for a kiss, but she moved away.

"Ah ah ah…" she warned, wagging her finger at me. "Brush your teeth first, Mr. Bing,"

I sighed and pretended to be disappointed.  I find Monica's quirks funny.  It's part of what makes her such a great girl to be with.

"You are a hard one to please, Monica Geller," I said, shaking my head. "A thousand girls would've _died _for that kiss you just avoided,"

"Maybe that's because you haven't brushed your teeth yet, Chandler Bing," I caught a twinkle in her eye.  "And it's not going to be 'Monica Geller' for long…"

I padded into the dining room after I was done brushing my teeth and saw Joey and Rachel already eating breakfast.  Monica was by the sink, doing something that concerned the still-clean plates.  I walked over to her, tied my hands around her waist and kissed her cheek from behind.

"That's more like it," she smiled at me. "Oh, did you remember to splash water on the sink after you brushed your teeth so the toothpaste doesn't leave stains?"

I rolled my eyes.

"Of course I remembered," I told her.

"Oh, you _should_," said Rachel from the table.

"Hey, it _does _leave stains," persisted Monica.

I ended the conversation before it escalated into something bigger then took a seat between Joey and Rach.  I reached for a piece of toast and the paper from its usual spot on the table.  The spot was empty.

"Hey, where's the paper?" I asked.  "Anybody take it?"

"Joey had it a while ago," Rachel took a sip of her coffee. 

"I did?" Joey looked confused.  "Wait…_which _Joey are we talking about here?"

I snorted at his direction.  Sometimes, his ignorance had me stupefied.

"Joey, there's only one 'Joey', and that's you.  Now where's the paper?"

"What paper?"

Oh God.

"The _paper, _Joe.  If you didn't know, it's a shortcut we Americans use for 'newspaper'," I told him exasperatedly.

He gave me a blank stare, which changed into something that resembled realization a minute later.

"Ohhhh," he said.  "The _paper, _right.  Yeah…"

"So where is it?" I asked again.

"It's on the couch," he told me, biting into a slice of leftover pizza.

I got up, jogged towards the den area and looked at the couch.

The paper was there alright.  In pieces.  The pages were all over the place.

"Joey!" I said, picking up a stray page and carrying it back with me to the dining room.

"What, what?" said Joey, confused.  He looked as if I was going to accuse him of a crime.

"What's wrong honey?" asked Rachel.

"What's wrong? Joey, what'd you do to this? You've…you've _desecrated _the paper!!"

I have this thing about the newspaper.  I like my paper with its pages in order, preferably untouched and free of jam stains.  I like reading through it in an ordered manner.  I don't know why, but that's one thing I get freakishly neat about.  Now, it was in pieces.

"Oh," said Joey, seeing what I was holding.  "I was looking for the comics,"

"Did he make a mess in the den?" Monica rushed over to the disaster site.  "Oh Joey…"

"Comics?" I couldn't believe the reason on why my paper had been disturbed.  "The comics don't come until Sunday, man!"

"Oh?" Joey looked confused again.  "Isn't today a Sunday?"

"NO, it's a _Saturday,_" I told him.  "Man…"

I let the newspaper page fall to the floor.  No use reading that now.

"I'm sorry, Chandler," Now, Joey looked apologetic.  "Really, I'll make it up to you…"

"You can buy him a new paper from the corner," Rachel suggested.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll do that…and coffee…and maybe a pizza and some donuts…"

"Joey!" Rachel scolded. "It's for Chandler, not for you,"

"Oh yeah, yeah, right, sorry," he stood up.  "I'll go get it now…"

"Oh, you'd better," I told him, my arms folded across my chest.  I really wasn't in the mood for any of his antics.  I was still sleepy and annoyed at what he'd done the night before.

Joey left and Monica emerged from the den, the remains of the news in her hands.  She stuffed it into the trash.

"Well, someone's Mr. Grumpy today," she commented.

"Yeah, Chandler, you're stealing my thunder," said Rachel.  "I'm supposed to be the bitchy morning person,"

"Forget it," I told them, taking my seat again.  "I'm just tired,"

"Aw, poor baby," Monica ran a hand through my hair.  "I bet a nice shower will fix that,"

"That depends," I said, eyeing her.  "Who'll I be in the shower with?"

We kissed and I heard Rachel put down her coffee cup with a loud _clink! _

"Okay, okay, please don't do that in front of people who just ate," she said, looking disgusted. 

"You do it with Ross," I grinned at her.

"That is low, Bing! Now you've made me even more nauseous!" she stood up and turned towards the door.  "Thanks for a great breakfast, Mon.  I'll see you later when you're both done making out,"

"Sure honey," replied Monica.

When Rachel was gone, Monica faced me again, a smile playing on her lips.  I could feel my heart beating faster and faster the longer I took in her ocean eyes.  A wisp of raven hair found its way to her face and I brushed it back with my fingers.

"Now where were we…"

I moved in for the kill.

_Bang! _The door slammed open and we threw ourselves off each other instinctively.  Joey stood in the doorway sheepishly.

"Sorry but, uh, I'm a little strapped for cash so…"

"In the cookie jar, honey," Monica told him quickly. 

"Which one?"

"On the counter…the purple one…"

Joey stared at her for a minute and before the answer dawned on him, I strode over to the jar, opened the lid, shoved my hand inside, grabbed a 20 and planted it in his palm.

"There.  Go on, buy the paper, coffee, donut, plane ticket, whatever," I told him, pushing him out the door.

"Oh, _that's _the cookie jar.  I thought it was called a 'money jar' since money's inside instead of cookies…"

"See you later, Joe,"

I closed the door, locked it and hurried to my blushing fiancée.

"Where were we again…oh yeah…"

We kissed and I saw the whole universe dance in front of my eyes.


	3. Just one game, pleeease

The gang and I had dinner at our place that same day.  Mon was so hyped up about the wedding plans that she could barely eat.

"It's going to be so beautiful," she gushed. "The cake, the dress, the flowers…the salmon we're going to eat is going to be caught that same day so it's going to be so fresh!"

"Oh, honey, that's great! I'm so happy for you guys!" Rachel reached out and gave Monica a hug.

"You're going to murder fish on your actual wedding day? Monica, how could you? Weddings are supposed to be joyous and festive!" said Phoebe.

"It is gonna be joyous and festive for the fish," Ross said knowingly.

"How?"

"They'll be dancing, you'll see…once they hit the frying pan," Dinosaur Man laughed.

Phoebe punched his shoulder.  "Not funny, you…you sadisticosaurus,"

"Yeah, Ross, y'know how Pheobe feels about that sort of stuff," said Joey defensively, putting an arm around Phoebe's shoulder.  "It's okay Pheebs…fish heaven is more beautiful than what their Mommy fish always told them to be,"

"And how'd you know that? Did Goldie the goldfish swim back to your toilet and give you a full report?" I asked sarcastically. 

"Oh, oh! It's true! I spoke to my deceased pet, Rambo, last night, and he told me it was like, Nirvana…but only for fish," supplied Phoebe.

I rolled my eyes.  Trust Pheebs to nail that one.

"Oh, I'm so excited, honey," Monica went over to my side and kissed me. "I keep wishing that the wedding's tomorrow already!"

"Yeah? Well so do I," I kissed her back.  I could see how excited she was.  I was excited too.  I wanted to begin our married life that minute. 

"Aaw, you guys look so cute together," said Rachel.  "Don't they, Ross?"

"Just remember to take care of her, Bing," Ross told me.  I put my arms around Monica.

"Don't worry about it, Ross, Chandler can handle it, right, buddy?" he raised his eyebrows at me, a grin on his face.

"Okay, now whatever that grin means, Joe, I don't like it, so wipe it off your face," said Ross.  Rachel laughed.

"Oooh, is somebody jealous?" she said.

"No, I'm not jealous!" said Ross defensively.  "Why would I be? I don't want to marry my own sister, for crying out loud,"

"Oh, you _are _lonely if you start thinking that, man," Joey patted him on the back.

"Shut up, Joe,"

"Hey, hey Chan," Joey said.  I turned to him.

"What?"

"Hey, you said we were gonna play foosball tonight, right? C'mon, so we can have enough time to warm up the boys," he started jumping up and down like a little kid.  Foosball? Did I promise him anything concerning foosball?

Oh yeah.

"Sorry, I can't," I told him.  Joey stopped jumping around.

"Why not?" he asked, looking deflated.

"Because I have to catch up on my sleep," I told him, a hint of annoyance in my voice.

"Why? Did you sleep late last night, man?"

I so wanted to hit myself when he said that.

"_No,_" I said.  "It's because you woke me up in the middle of the night to ask me a question and I couldn't get back to sleep again,"

"Wait, Joey came here?" asked Rachel.  "What'd you wanna ask that you could have asked me instead of Chandler?"

Joey gave her a look that reflected pure fright.

"You're scary when I wake you up!" he said.

"Oh, and Chandler isn't?"

"I tried telling him that," I said tiredly.

"So that's who you were talking to.  I thought it was an imaginary friend or something," said Monica.

"Well what was it that you wanted to ask Chandler?" asked Ross.

"Ooh ooh! Was it about rainbows?" said Phoebe excitedly.

We all gave her a strange look.

"I don't wanna talk about it," mumbled Joey.

"It's not that big of a deal," I said.  Joey shook his head.

"No, I don't want to tell you guys now…maybe later…" he said.

"Oh c'mon, Joe…" said Ross, who craved a good secret more than any of us.  He couldn't stand it if Joey and I knew something and he didn't.

"Hey c'mon, don't force him.  If he told Chandler, then maybe Chandler's the only one who's supposed to know for now…" said Monica helpfully. A moment later her head snapped to Joey. "Is it a girl?"

"I wish it was," he said.  He turned to me again.  "C'mon, Chan, just a little foosball.  We never do stuff anymore,"

Monica nudged me.

"Yeah, go on, babe.  Why not?"

"Because I don't want to, that's why," I was too tired to do anything, most of all with Joey.  "Sorry,"

"Okay," Joey looked dejected.

"Hey, I'll play with you," Phoebe said invitingly.

"I always lose with you," whined Joey.

"So?" Phoebe had this great grin on her face.

"If you don't want to play foosball then maybe you can help me pick out what kind of candles we're going to use for our wedding," Monica told me.

Candles.  Uninteresting, but it was with Monica anyway.

"Sure," I smiled.  We stood up and walked towards her room.

"Hey, if you're done with all those candles, play one game with me, okay Chandler?" Joey called out.

"Yeah, okay, sure," I said distractedly, my eyes on Mon.  Bells were going off in my head.  I couldn't believe she was mine.


	4. The world's against me

I was too busy planning the wedding with Monica for the whole of the next week so I didn't see much of the gang except for the instances that I stopped by Central Perk between the hours in the office and the hours with the wedding planner.  Come Friday, I was there in Central Perk with Ross and Rachel until 4:30 struck and I stood up to leave.

"Well you've been a busy bee," Rachel commented as I put on my coat.  She'd left Ross on the couch to finish his crossword.

"Have I?"

What was I supposed to be? Idle? We were planning our _wedding.  _I had to be busy.

"Joey misses you, Chandler," Rachel said quietly.  

"Oh? Since when?" I hadn't really been thinking of Joey the past couple of days.  Monica kept me busy.

"Since you've started ignoring him,"

"When did I do that?"

"Chandler, we eat breakfast in your place everyday, correct?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you even notice us when we're there?"

I couldn't believe what she was accusing me of.  Of course I hadn't been ignoring them! Just that morning I said 'Hi' to both of them.  That wasn't 'ignoring'.

"I said 'hi' to you this morning," I told her.

"No, you said, 'Hi, Mon,' then you two kissed," Rachel replied.

Wait a minute…

"Rach, you aren't jealous, are you?" I asked cautiously.  I watched her eys grow wide.

"What? No, you pig!" she slapped my shoulder. "This is about Joey! I couldn't care less if you ignore me because Mon's my best friend and she definitely doesn't pretend I'm not there…"

"I don't pretend Joey's not there!" I exclaimed, hurt by her remark.  Why would I do that?

"Well you're doing a good job acting like you are.  Chandler, Joey's your best friend.  You never see him anymore.  Ever since you and Mon became serious about each other, you…I dunno…drifted away…"

I didn't have time for this.  I was running late and Rachel was still hurling accusations at me.  I _wasn't _drifting away! I'd just been busy.  I'd been busy for a while before and that never hurt our friendship…

"I've got to go.  I'll talk to you later…"

"Chandler!"

I went out of Central Perk in time for a cold fall wind to slap me in the face.  I shivered, shoved my hands deep into my coat pockets and started walking.  I was about to cross the street when I heard someone call my name.

"Hey, Chandler! Hey, man!"

I turned to see Joey jogging towards me, this huge grin on his face.

"Boy, am I glad to see you," he said breathlessly.  "I was afraid you were going somewhere again,"

"Actually…" I started, but Joey interrupted me before I could finish.

"Hey look," he reached inside his coat and go out three Knicks tickets then waved it in front of my face.  "Best seats in the house.  For you, me and Monica,"

"Joe, Monica doesn't watch sports, you know that,"

"Yeah, but how else can I get you to go? Besides, she might as well get used to it 'cause you're gonna be needing someone to watch the games with you after you guys get married and all…"

I noticed a hint of something else aside from excitement in his tone, though I couldn't get what it was.  He was still grinning though, and it was pretty genuine.  I knew he had something against the wedding…well, he used to.  Was he accepting the fact now? He didn't look like he was faking it that he was happy for us.

"C'mon, man, last game.  Last game with Joey, c'mon," he pleaded.

I relented.  I felt sorry for him.

"When is it?" I asked.

"6:00,"

"Tomorrow?"

"No, today,"

I could feel my stomach sink with disappointment not for me, but for Joey.  I knew he wanted to go so badly, but there was no way I could come.

"Oh no," I said.  "Joe, I can't,"

His face fell.

"Why not?" he said, the excitement gone from his voice.

"Because…I have to meet up with Monica and the wedding planner right about…oh, I dunno…now?" I looked up at him from my sides to see his reaction.

His arms fell to his sides and after a moment gave me a toothless smile.

"It's okay, buddy, you go on and plan your wedding," he told me in a very Joey manner.

"You could take Ross," I offered. "He'd want to go to the game…a-and Rachel…or Pheobe.  Or even Gunther!"

I felt guilty, but not that much.  Monica would have hated the game and would torture me endlessly while it would go on.  It was nice of Joey to think of her when buying the tickets though.  I'd thought he was still jealous of Monica for 'taking me away'.

"Yeah, maybe," he said.  He sighed and returned the tickets inside his coat pocket.  "I'll see you later,"

"Okay, Joe, I'll see you later," I started walking again.

"Hey, don't forget to call me if you need anything, okay?" he called out.  "Whatever it is, you name it,"

"Yeah, I won't forget," I said absent-mindedly.  My eyes and attention were already on my watch.  Monica was going to kill me…

"Chandler! Hey, Chandler, watch out!!"

The next few moments happened very quickly, but at the same time very slowly.  I was still walking, still looking at my watch, when somebody suddenly shoved me to the adjacent sidewalk and I fell, face-first, on the ground.  My palms cushioned my fall and I felt one of them getting cut as I landed.  I couldn't see what was going on behind me but then there was a screech, a thud, then a high-pitched scream.  It was as if all of time had stopped after the scream died down.  I couldn't move.  I was there, lying frozen on the ground, scared of what the hell I would see once I turned around.

What the hell just happened?

"Oh my God!! Oh my God!!"

I could recognize that voice anywhere.

No.

I forced myself to stand, then turned around and hurried to where a crowd was forming.  My ankle hurt me.  I must have twisted it on my way down.

I pushed the people aside for me to see.  I couldn't breathe when I saw it.  I really couldn't.  It was like somebody had gotten a hold of my lungs and wouldn't let go.

"No…" I whispered, which soon escalated into a full-blown "NO!"

Rachel knelt on the ground, sobbing, with Joey's head cradled in her arms.  Ross stood behind her, pale and shaking, with a distraught look on his face.  I limped towards them and got on my knees.

"No…no Joe, no…" I said, tears already brimming my eyes.  "You crazy son of a bitch, you shouldn't have done that…"

Joey lay on the ground, still breathing and his eyes half-open but shaking badly.  His face was so pale and blood and glass were everywhere.  Rachel kept sobbing over him.

"Somebody call an ambulance!" she wailed. "Somebody please call an ambulance!!"

"Ch-Chandler, I-I'm cold," Joey shivered.  Immediately, I got my coat off and draped it over him.

"Don't talk," I was shaking as badly as he was. "J-Joey, just stay awake for us.  Just stay awake i-in time for help to come,"

"I can't…" he almost sobbed. "Everything h-hurts…"

"You'll be okay, I swear, buddy, I swear to God…" I lifted my head and yelled "HAS ANYBODY CALLED AN AMBULANCE YET??" in a panic.

"They'll be here soon, honey, don't worry," Rachel said, trying to keep her voice calm.  "They'll be here…just please, stay awake…"

"No, NO, JOEY!!" I yelled as I saw his eyes close.  "I'll buy you a lifetime supply of Playboy, Knicks tickets and sandwiches, just please, Joe, hang on…"

My voice grew weak.  I held his hand and watched his every breath come and go.

"You're not going to die here…not here…not now, I need you Joey.  Don't go, I'll never forgive you if you go…"

My tears came before I could stop myself.  Rachel held onto me with her free arm.

"Oh my God…oh my God, Chandler, he's gone…I can't believe he's gone…" she whispered mournfully.

No.

"NO!" I exclaimed. "He can't be gone! H-He's my best man…he's my best friend…he can't be gone…"

I looked at him and I didn't need a report to confirm what Rachel had just said.  He looked as if he was sleeping, only he wasn't breathing anymore and a huge cut was on his forehead.

"Damn it, Joey!" I yelled at him.  "Damn you! Damn it…damn it…"

Rachel caught me and I sobbed on her shoulder.

"I'm so so sorry, Joe…I'm sorry…"

We sat there until help arrived.  No one survived the accident.  Both the driver of the cab and its passenger was killed.  Half of me wished he were alive so I could beat him senseless and yell at him.  The other half of me wanted to beat myself for not being more careful. 

I couldn't say anything more about the passenger, though.  I don't know if the world was against me that day for it to be so coincidental. 

The cab, of course, just had to be the same cab that was carrying the wedding planner.

This isn't the end, though.  More soon!


	5. You're worth my tears, Joe

**Thanks to all who reviewed! :) I'm sorry I killed Joey, but don't worry, everything will turn out to be fiiine I think…smiles a big secretive smile**

I have never been a religious person. Ever since I was a kid, my parents never forced me into any sort of practice for reasons still known only to them. Sure I celebrate Christmas, but that's because everyone does it. Sure, I use the word 'God' in a lot of ways but that's about as far as it goes. I've never been quite sure of a 'God', which is probably why I didn't go diving into any religion even when I grew older and got out of my mother's hair. Not that it bothered me though. I think the classification that would suit my situation best would be 'agnostic'.

I wish I wasn't.

That one time in my life, when we lost Joey, I wished I did believe in something, though I didn't know for what purpose. Someone to blame? Someone to yell at? Someone I could ask my unanswered questions to?

Unlike me, Joey had been Catholic, and for the first time I wished I'd known more about what his beliefs had been. I'd never actually seen him practice them, but I do remember catching him cross himself on more than one occasion. One time, I'd even interrupted him while 'praying'.

"Joe—"

He'd whipped around as soon as I entered his room like I'd caught him doing something illegal. He'd been sitting on his bed with his back turned to me.

"Sssh!!" he'd told me.

I'd stood by the door, wondering what he was up to.

"What're you doing?"

He'd shushed me again, then after a few mumblings, turned around and told me, "I'm praying, all right?"

I'd been surprised. Joey'd never prayed before.

"Praying? What for?"

"Lot of stuff. Tickets to the big game, good dinner…you want me to put you and Monica in?"

His words had stopped me, but then I'd shrugged and had given a hesitant, "Sure, why not?"

"Okay," he'd said. "Now go away before God decides not to listen to me anymore!"

I'd left him alone, thinking that maybe he hadn't gone through enough Bible School as a kid. Back then, the memory of it used to make me laugh. Now it reduces me to tears no one else sees.

I never attended Joey's wake. It was a terrible thing to go through. His family wanted it to be an open casket and I just couldn't bring myself to even set foot inside the chapel. I spent the entire week of it alone in the apartment while the others paid their respects. No one could get me out of my room when they were around. I stole away at night so I could sit in the living room and look out the window and think. I didn't cry. Tears just weren't enough.

The day of the funeral was the first time the others, including Monica, saw me for the first time since after the accident. I could see the girls holding back tears when I came out of my room.

"Oh honey…" Monica covered her mouth with her hands at the sight of me. They'd been in the living room, conversing in whispers. When I appeared, they'd stopped.

"Chandler…" was all they could say.

I knew I looked awful. I felt awful. I felt old and useless and fragile. My ankle was still bandaged from the accident and so was my palm. I hadn't shaved, my eyes had bags underneath them and my hair was becoming difficult to deal with. I'd also grown thinner. My clothes didn't fit right anymore.

"Let's go," I told them grimly before they could say another word. I limped ahead to get to the door. "We might be late,"

I didn't want any hugs or any reassurances. I still wanted to be alone. Thankfully, my friends respected my space.

Nobody spoke on the way to the cemetery. The tension inside the cab was thick. I knew they wanted to talk to me, but nobody tried to start any conversation. I spent the whole trip staring out of the window, watching New York zoom by. Some time later, I felt Monica slip her hand into mine and give it a small squeeze. I didn't have to look to see why.

We were there. I could see the cemetery gates open to let the line of cars through.

I fought the urge to hurl.

"We remember Joseph Francis Tribbiani as a loyal son…"

I kept my head down as the priest spoke. We were in the second row behind Joey's family: a long line of sisters, aunts, uncles and cousins. I stood between Monica and Rachel. At the mention of the word 'son', Mrs. Tribbiani gave a loud sob and buried her head in her husband's shoulder. Every cry she made pierced through me like a lance.

"…brother…"

At the word, his sisters held each other, shedding tears and whispering words of consolation to each other for comfort. One rushed to a male cousin for comfort. I felt guilt and sadness envelope me again. Joey had been _my_ brother too.

"…friend…"

I shut my eyes and felt as the lump in my throat grew and grew. I didn't let my tears come. Joey had been a loyal friend. In fact, he'd been more than loyal. I couldn't remember a time when he'd gone against me and I felt guilty knowing that I'd gone against him more than enough times. He'd always been there, I wasn't. I remembered when he'd begged me for a foosball game just a week before.

_One _game. A lousy half-hour or so of my time and I didn't even give it to him.

But in the end he gave me his whole life and I hadn't even asked for it.

Monica started to cry and so did Rachel. I put my thoughts aside and pulled them close to me on instinct to comfort them.

"He will forever be missed…"

_You don't know how much, _I thought almost bitterly. I could feel the girls' tears seeping through my clothes but I paid no attention. I was now focusing on the coffin up front. It was long and sleek with a color that seemed to be a mix of black and blue. I couldn't imagine Joey being inside of it. I couldn't imagine him lying inside, motionless, with eyes that would never open, a mouth that would never smile and feet that wouldn't be clumping around again. I wanted to yell. I was older than he was. I was supposed to have _protected _him.

Phoebe and Ross squeezed in for a hug. Their cheeks were all wet. We pulled into a tight hug. I needed it as much as they did.

"Oh…oh…" Rachel moaned softly.

"He's gone…" Monica said in a tortured voice. "I just…I just can't accept that he's gone,"

"It's okay, it's okay…" comforted Ross, his voice breaking. He sounded like he was being strangled.

Okay. I didn't know if anything was ever going to be okay. It was a lie and Ross knew it.

"…the final goodbye now, please," I caught the priest saying. We pulled away from each other and looked up. The priest had stopped talking and had stepped aside, waiting for the crowd to come over. He was clutching the Bible to his chest.

"Oh…this is the last time…this is the last time we can talk to him…" said Rachel, her hands to her mouth. "I can't do it…"

"We have to honey, he was our friend…we have to be there for him…" Monica told her with a hug. "It'll be okay…it'll be just fine…"

I watched as they inched out of our spot and followed the Tribbianis towards the coffin. Ross patted my shoulder as he passed to follow Monica and Rachel, Phoebe behind them.

"You okay, man?" he asked.

"Yeah," I lied, then added a low "No," after it.

"I know," he said softly. He gave me another pat and walked away to catch up with the girls. I let myself fall onto my seat and hunched forward with my hands clasped together. My chest tightened as Joey's parents reached out to touch his coffin.

"My baby…" his mother gave a strangled cry. "My Joey…"

If her husband hadn't been there to hold her, I didn't doubt that she'd drape her arms over the wood and sob all night long. I didn't blame her. If I'd been her, I'd probably do worse things. She was, in fact, being braver than I was.

Once the family was done, Monica and the others stepped up. I wanted to hear what they were going to say, but at the same time I didn't. It would just remind me that I was the bastard who'd caused every feeling of pain they were experiencing right now. I only strained my ears to catch a few words.

"Hey…I miss you already Joey…I'll miss all those nights you'd come into our apartment and raid our fridge…"

Monica had to be led off by Ross because she began crying. Rachel didn't say anything; she just kissed the coffin then took Monica so Ross could say goodbye. Ross had started with a few words, but then, stopped.

"Well, Joe…this is it…you know…" This was where he stopped, then after a moment, began speaking again. "I'll…I'll see you buddy…" He gave the coffin a pat, like he'd been talking to a real person. I envied him. At least he had the right words to say for once.

Phoebe was the last. She had a daisy crown in her hands.

"Hey, you know…you remember the time you told me…to…to make you one of these…'cause…'cause Ross had asked for one? Well, I'm sorry I forgot…but I still made you one, see? Oh…I don't know what to say anymore…" she threw up her hands, tears spilling down her cheeks. She put the daisy crown on the coffin and 'hugged' it. "I love you love you love you, Joey Tribbiani,"

I stood up. I couldn't stand it any longer. Everyone turned to look at me.

"I have to go…" I muttered and started to limp away before anyone could stop me. I didn't know where I was supposed to go. _Somewhere. _ _Anywhere. _As long as it would take me away from where everyone was.

"Chandler…" I heard Monica say, but I didn't stop. I didn't want anyone to see me.

Who was I to inflict this much pain on any of them? Who was I to take away the Tribbianis only son?

I grimaced as my ankle hurt me.

_Good, _I thought. I hoped it stayed that way. I deserved to have it. I wished it never healed.

I stopped at an empty spot to rest. My foot was throbbing like crazy. No one was around to hear me. I let myself fall to the ground, panting, my face red and my chest about to burst. I let the silence wrap around me and then held my face in my hands.

I cried.


	6. He was real lucky to have a Mom like you

**Thanks so much for the reviews! It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside :) sorry for the heavy drama…I get carried away sometimes. Oh, and if this doesn't sound like Joey's Mom, I also apologize. I haven't watched the episode where she was present so I don't know how to write her. Please r/r!**

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"Chandler?"

I heard Monica knock on my bedroom door and I quickly shut my eyes to pretend I was asleep. I'd gone home earlier from the cemetery than the others had and had gone straight to bed and stayed there the rest of the day, trying to keep my thoughts in check. I'd heard them when they'd come home, but I acted as if I hadn't heard them.

"Chandler, honey?"

I heard the door open. Damn. I'd forgotten to lock it.

I stayed still and made sure I breathed correctly. Monica knows whenever I feign sleep. Good thing my back was facing the door. She'd know from my expression that I was awake. I kept my eyes shut.

"I'm sorry…" Monica said softly to someone. "He's sleeping…"

"It's okay, honey. May I…may I please just stay here for a while?" a woman replied in the same tone.

My eyes almost snapped open. I'd know that voice anywhere.

"Yeah sure…here…"

Monica pulled a chair for the visitor to sit on. I didn't budge, though my heart had quickened its pace.

"Thank you," the woman said.

"Can I get you anything, Mrs. Tribbiani? Water…coffee…"

"No, thank you, Monica. I'm fine,"

"Okay,"

Mrs. Tribbiani. Joey's Mom. I could feel my stomach as it formed knots with itself.

The door shut and I knew I was alone with Mrs. Tribbiani in the room. She didn't speak for a while, but I heard her movements. I felt her hand as she brushed the comforter, then the weight as she placed her hands on the bed.

"Oh, Chandler…" I heard her say softly. There was sorrow in her voice. I gulped, not liking her tone. I figured that if I listened well enough, I could hear the sound of her heart breaking. I couldn't believe I was the reason why Joey's mother was crying.

"I know you're hurting, honey, believe me. I'm hurting too," she spoke to me as if she knew I was listening. I could hear her voice quiver in an attempt to hold back tears. "I've never hurt this much in my whole life…"

_I'm sorry,_ I thought out loud, hoping she could hear. _I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry…_

"I know you feel the same way. In the morning I keep forgetting he's not there anymore so I end up reserving the Twinkies and the pizza for him in our fridge…"

I didn't forget. At least she did. Then she could spend a few minutes in an illusion I was never going to experience; the illusion that Joey was still there, before reality set in and sank her back into misery again.

There was silence for a few minutes. It seemed like forever before Mrs. Tribbiani started talking again. I just waited for her to continue, still pretending to be asleep. Even though I wasn't facing her, I didn't want to open my eyes. I didn't know why.

"Anyway…I…I'd like to thank you for being a good friend to…my Joey," she finally said.

_No! _My thoughts shouted. _No, don't thank me…I wasn't a good friend…I wasn't…I wasn't…_

"You were like a brother to him…and God knows, he needed a brother," Mrs. Tribbiani sighed at the latter part of the first sentence. "Did you know…I knew you even before I met you. Joey…he used to tell me a lot of stories. At first I thought…I thought you were a bad influence…don't ask me why. But it turns out you weren't…believe me, I was so relieved when we were finally introduced,"

I remembered. We all ended up drunk afterwards on our backs, laughing like crazy. "This Chandler," Mrs. Tribbiani had said, clapping me on the back, "this Chandler is a laugh a minute! Bring him again next week, honey!"

"Yeah sure, Ma," Joey'd replied in his drunken state. "We play poker next week, okay, Chandler? With my Ma. She's a killer,"

"Oh thank you, honey," Mrs. Tribbiani had replied, raising her glass for a toast. I'd joined in. The three of us became poker partners ever since.

That was so long ago.

"Thank you for keeping him safe for me, Chandler, honey," Mrs. Tribbiani said more softly.

I gulped again.

_Stop thanking me, _I thought pleadingly. My conscience couldn't bear it. _Please…stop calling me things I'm not…I didn't keep him safe…If I did he would still be here. Joey would still be here._

"I miss him so much," Mrs. Tribbiani's voice had started to crack. "God only knows…he's with God now hopefully. That's the only thing that gives me comfort. He's there…he's away from this nasty nasty world…he sees us…he hears us…" she finally gave in and started to weep to herself. "Oh…"

I wanted to stop pretending already. I wanted to sit up and hug her. But I didn't. I figured that if she'd wanted to talk to me while I was officially awake, she'd have done so. This was probably an outlet of some sort.

But still, outlet or not, I couldn't stand to hear Mrs. Tribbiani cry. I love the woman more than I ever loved my own mother, for God's sakes.

_Don't cry…please don't cry…_I thought gently whilst gulping back unshed tears.

I just let her mourn for a while, but her crying didn't last long. The woman is incredible. She isn't indestructible but she's just so so brave.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Chandler…" she told me, talking to my back. "I'm sorry…I couldn't help myself."

I heard her sigh then dab her eyes with the handkerchief she always had with her. She and that piece of embroidered cloth were inseperable. I know because it had been a mother's day gift to her from Joey and his sisters a long time ago and she tells the story of how they'd given it like, a thousand times each time.

"I prayed the rosary for him just last night…and it was as if he was there in the room with me, holding me. I prayed for him…I talked to him…I know he's fine…but it's hard, isn't it, Chandler? I know you're not religious, honey, but I prayed for you too. I know you're the one who's suffering the most from this. Not me…"

I felt her hands touch my hair lightly, in an almost afraid touch. I could smell her perfume. It was sweet and pleasant-smelling, unlike what my mother had used to wear. I have to admit, I envied Joey for his mother. Mrs. Tribbiani was the mother my own wasn't. She was the cookie-making-hugging-kissing-spank-when needed-to-be-disciplined-kind. I would have given anything for my mother to have been even slightly like her.

I was the one who'd suffer the most…Mrs. Tribbiani didn't know much truth there was in what she had said.

I forced to calm my fast-beating heart and swallow a huge wad of spit to my drying throat.

"I hope you'll forgive me…for this…" Mrs. Tribbiani touched my shoulder. It was almost as if she was aching to hug me. "For not waiting until you were awake to talk to you…I know you haven't heard a single word I've said…"

_No no, _I protested, _I heard everything…I heard every single thing._

"I…I'm actually quite thankful you're asleep. You need the rest. Someday…I might get to repeat everything I've said. That time, of course, you'd be awake…"

Her voice dropped to a softer tone. Steady and gentle.

"You remind me too much of my Joey…" she said sadly. "You're like a son to me, Chandler. One day we'll talk. We'll talk until our tongues fall off and our eyes fall out and maybe you can tell me your side of this story. But now…I'm still hurting. Nothing was your fault. I don't blame you…I don't blame you at all…"

I squeezed my eyes tight. I wanted to cover my ears.

"I just needed you to listen now…Thank you for everything, Chandler. I don't regret my son ever meeting such a fine person like you," I heard the chair scrape as she stood up, then felt as she leaned closer to me and rested her hand lightly on my shoulder. "May God keep you safe,"

I felt her lips give me a gentle kiss on the temple. It was a motherly kiss and I could feel all her love poured into it. It was a kiss I didn't deserve. It was a kiss that was supposed to be for Joey.

I waited until Mrs. Tribbiani left the room and shut the door behind her before I finally lay on my back, my eyes now open. My throat hurt from the huge lump blocking it. I lifted my hands to my face and felt how hot it was.

I'd never felt so ashamed of myself. I was the one who had killed her son, but she was the one who had come to me to thank me and ask for _my _forgiveness. That was supposed to be _my_ role.

She had kissed what she had thought was her second son. I knew better.

She had just kissed the murderer of her _only _son.

xxxxxxx

**Aaaaww…poor Chandler. I thought it would be a nice touch to put Joey's Mom in. Sort of like what Priam did to Achilles in the story of Troy. This was a hard one to do mostly because Chandler just listens. Again, I'm sorry if it's overly-dramatic. Well, it IS a tragedy…:-) Please just bear with it as it runs it course. Again, thanks to those who've reviewed! Ice cream for you! **


	7. Milk and cookies can help fix things

**looks at reviews and smiles Thank you so much! Keep 'em coming! : )**

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That night, I lay on my bed, feeling totally exhausted emotionally and physically but not able to get any sleep.  My mouth was so tired that it even refused to move but my eyes were still wide-open and still very much awake, staring at the ceiling.  I was done thinking.  I'd been thinking the whole time after Mrs. Tribbiani had left (that time I made sure I locked the door) and my brain had just totally knocked itself out from having too many thoughts.  To make matters worse, my stomach was growling at me; I hadn't fed it dinner again and it was partly the reason why I was still awake.  Another reason was that my ankle was throbbing like crazy and I cuoldn't get comfortable with it howling with pain.  The rest of the reasons I didn't know.  How could a person be so drained of energy but still have the enough strength not to sleep?

It was driving me nuts.

I forced myself to get up after an hour of tossing and turning on the bed.  My sheets looked mangled and I wasn't any closer to getting sleep.  Glancing at the clock on the bedside table, I saw that it was a quarter to two: a whole lot of hours after I first went to bed.  Great.  It was a good thing it was a Sunday the next day.

I put on my bathrobe over my undershirt and boxers and hobbled outside to the living room.  My original plan was to feed myself first.  Maybe that way, I'd finally be able to catch some Z's.

I stopped when I lifted my head just as I was halfway across the living room when I saw Ross at the kitchen table, a glass of milk and a plate of cookies in front of him.  Freezing like a rabbit caught in taillights, I debated with myself on whether or not I should make a hasty retreat back to bed.  I really wanted to be alone.  I knew he'd want to talk.  I just wasn't ready for any of it yet.

As I stood there stupidly, Ross looked up at me and froze almost the same way I did, though he took a lot less time to regain his senses. He snapped out of it quickly and opened his mouth to speak.  He was probably as scared of talking to me as I was to talk to him.

"Oh…" he said.  "Hey, Chandler,"

He sounded so normal that you wouldn't think he was as nervous as hell.  I wondered if I should answer him.

"Hey, Ross," I said, unmoving.  I was planning on just saying 'hi' then making it back to my bedroom as soon as possible before he started a conversation.  But then, Ross had other plans.

"You want to eat, man? You didn't eat any dinner.  Monica made some of this great mac n' cheese…"

I held up my hand.  "No, no thanks,"  Mac n' cheese was tempting but…not quite.

I turned to go but Ross tried again.

"How 'bout cookies then? I know you're hungry," he said, holding up the pack of Oreos. "C'mon, Chandler, Mon would kill me if she found out I caught up with you in the middle of the night and didn't get you to eat,"

My stomach growled again.  It wanted Oreos.  It had already seen it and it wasn't going to turn back until it got a share of them.

"Okay," I said after a while, throwing up my hands in defeat.  I figured I could handle Ross.  He was a guy. He understood more of the situation than the girls did.

"Cool," Ross stood up to get me a glass and I sat down across from him.

"Please, man, just do me a favor…let's not talk about…it," I told him as he sat down again.  He looked at me first before he nodded.

"Sure, sure man, nobody's pressuring you to talk about something you don't want to talk about," he told me, as he twisted an Oreo apart and licked the cream.  "We could talk about other stuff…Oreos for instance.  Where'd they get the name 'Oreo'?"

I looked at the Oreo I had in my hand.  What was an 'oreo' anyway before it was a cookie?

"Maybe the 'O's at the start and end of the word are the cookies," I suggested.  "The 're' is probably the cream or something…"

"In what language is 're' 'cream'?" Ross asked curiously.

"German?"

"Nah…"

I popped the cookie into my mouth, not really caring why it was called that.  For a while, Ross and I just sat there, twisting, licking and dunking the Oreos in the milk.  After my fifth one I was starting to feel nauseous from all the sudden chocolate overload that I stopped and just finished with the milk.

"What're you doing here anyway?" I asked Ross as he plowed through his plate of cookies and started clapping his hands together over the table to free it of crumbs.

"I figured you guys could use the company," he said, his mouth full.

"Where're Rach and Pheebs?"

"They're sleeping over at Pheebs' place…Rach…she can't…the apartment…"

Ross stopped midway the sentence.  I didn't mind.  I didn't need him to finish it to know what he meant.  I didn't blame Rach from not wanting to even sleep in the apartment.  I was sure the rest of us wouldn't want to either.

"Your ankle okay?" he asked, maybe to change the subject.

"No," I told him.  "It hurts like hell,"

"Maybe you should put ice on it,"

"The doctor said not to touch it so I'm not going to,"

"Okay, okay,"

There was silence again as I just watched Ross finishing his food.  For some reason, even though I didn't want to, I couldn't stop from thinking about the day of the accident.  The day Joey had died.  Ross had been there, hadn't he? He'd been there with Rachel…I was suddenly curious.  Had he seen what had happened? Had he seen what had really happened? There was this sudden yearning inside of me to know just how stupid I had been.  I hadn't seen the cab coming, but that was because I was looking at the time.  Had I just been walking there when all of a sudden this cab came sweeping past and try to run me over? Or was I just stupid enough not to look both ways before crossing the street?

I knew it was more because of the latter, but I just _had _to know.  How had it happened?

"Hey, Ross?" I started hesitantly.

"Huh?" He'd been transfixed with his milk as if there was anything about it that was interesting. 

"Do you mind me asking, 'cause I just have to know…"

"What about, man?"

I felt my heart beat faster.  I knew I had told him I didn't want to talk about the accident and I knew I really didn't even want to think about it.  I wasn't sure if I was even ready to mention it in front of the rest of my friends and try to start a conversation about it.  I really really didn't want to but my mouth's always functioned faster than my brain has.

"You know about the accident?"

"Yeah?" Ross straightened up slowly in his chair, trying hard not to look interested but since he's always sucked at pretending, he didn't fool me at all.   

"You were there, right?" I squeezed my fingers nervously under the table.

"Yeah," Ross replied in a softer tone.  He glanced at his feet before he looked at me again and asked, "Why?"

"Did…Did…"

My tongue seemed to catch in my throat and I couldn't breathe again.  Reliving something you would rather live without isn't a walk in the park.  I could barely get the words out and had to practically force myself to form letters.

"Did…you…see what…happened?"

"What, man?"

Damn it, Ross.  I was having enough trouble speaking and he wanted me to repeat it. 

I repeated the question, with a lot of effort involved, and watched as Ross' expression fell.  My heart was beating so hard against my chest I thought it was going to rip through the skin.

"No, Chandler…" he stammered. "I'm sorry, I didn't…it happened too fast…"

I held up my hands to make him stop.  That was enough to answer my question.

"Never mind," I said, forcing a smile towards his direction. "Never mind…"

I was sort of glad he didn't have an answer to my question, but I was frustrated too.  Maybe if I knew what had really gone on that day, my conscience could be calmed, even only for a little while.  I just wanted someone to prove to me that it was my fault.  I couldn't stand it whenever people would come to me and tell me that it wasn't.  It _was.  _I just had to tell them how it happened to make them change their minds.  I didn't care if they got angry at me.  I did deserve it.  It wasn't as if I didn't.

My foot gave another sharp throb as if it was frustrated too.

"But, Chan, can I tell you something that I _do _know?" Ross asked in a low voice after some minutes of silence.

I became nervous again. 

"Does it have anything to do with…what happened?" I asked him carefully.  If it did, I wasn't sure if I wanted to, but if I had to, I would.

"No, not really…it's more about…" Ross looked up at me. "Joey,"

My breath caught in my throat at the sound of Joe's name.

"Well…" I really wasn't sure but my head gave a shaky nod anyway.  "Okay…okay…"

Ross drew in a deep breath and released it before he started.  He gave me a look that told me he was somewhat scared of telling me whatever it was that he was going to tell, but he continued anyway.

"Well…" he looked down at his feet again.  "I used to…I used to hate Joey,"

I couldn't believe what I was hearing.  Ross, hate Joey? Joey wasn't someone anyone could hate.  He was just too…too Joey.  No one could stand hating him.  I'd hated him once or twice before but it hadn't lasted long.

"Everyone hates someone once in a while, Ross," I said, trying to comfort him as well as myself.  "I'm sure it had only been a little hate…"

"No, no," Ross shook his head.  "It wasn't a little, and it wasn't for a short time either.  I hated him so much I couldn't even stand to see his face.  It was real, _pure _hate, Chandler,"

I didn't know what to say.  Ross had totally surprised me.  I looked at him and tried to search his face for something that could give him away that he was joking.  Unfortunately, he looked dead serious.

"W-Why would you hate Joe, Ross?" I stuttered.  "Did you and him have a little fight after you met him?"

"No," Ross hung his head.  "Now I'm totally ashamed for this reason…"

"What? Why'd you even _try _and hate Joey? What did he do?" I was on a roll.  I wasn't going to stop until Ross gave me a good reason.  I was going to defend Joey to the death.

Ross lifted his face and threw me a look I didn't quite interpret.  It was new.  It was like he was a convict admitting some crime.

"I know it was stupid, Chandler but I'm not mad anymore." He said.

"What'd he do?" I asked again.

It was a while before Ross could give me an answer.

"He took my best friend away," he told me before quickly adding, "but that's okay with me now, I mean, I've accepted it already…it wasn't Joey's fault…"

"Whoah," I made him stop, now more confused than ever.  I couldn't believe what he was telling me.  It just wasn't ROSS.

"Ross…" I went through my thoughts quickly and remembered that I _was _Ross' best friend before I met Joey.  I couldn't believe what I'd done.  "Ross, you know that you were still my best bud even after meeting Joe, right? And…and…a guy can have _two _best buds…"

"Never mind about that, man, that's unimportant now," Ross told me.  "I just couldn't stand the thought that I'd…I'd hated Joey once…and it was for _that _reason.  I mean, I totally understood everything…like you hanging out with him more…I'm not some second-grade kid who cries when his best friend gets taken away from him…"

For some reason, I knew he was lying through his teeth.

"Ross, I'm…I'm so so sorry, man…" There didn't seem to be enough words to express how truly sorry I felt.  I would have gladly gone down on my knees if I could.  "Oh God…I've screwed both of you now.  I'm such an ass…"

"No, no, Chandler, forget it.  I've already…I've already put it behind me, you know…hakuna matata…I just feel so rotten about…about _hating _him…" Ross stuttered.  "I mean, we can't change the past, right?"

I just sat there, my tongue in my throat, unable to speak.  No matter what I'd say, Ross would make it sound as if it was _his _fault he hated Joey and try and make everything better.  But then he'd only hated Joey because I'd ignored him.  I felt bad that I only hung out more with Joe because he'd been a more fun guy than Ross ever was.  He was cooler.  Compared to him, Ross was such…a dork.

Now I thought otherwise.  Ross wasn't a dork.  He could do stuff Joey and I couldn't and knew stuff Joey and I never would and that's what made him cool.  He was as cool as any of us.

"Tell you what, man," I finally offered.  "I won't hate you if you never forgive me for abandoning you but if you want, can I just treat you to coffee or something to tell you how sorry I am?"

Ross smiled at me.

"You don't have to, Chan.  I mean, we're buds and all and that's all over now…besides, I know you're not ready for anything yet…"

I released a breath.  Thank God for Ross who understood everything.

"But still…when I am ready, just…just lemme take you out okay? Like a beer or something…hang out…" I tried again.  I really wanted to make it up to him.  "As friends and all…"

"You really don't have to…"

"Just say yes, Geller, so I don't kick you in the shins right now with my good foot," I warned.

"Okay, okay, up to you.  But don't go rushing about it…"

"I won't," I told him, standing up.  I wanted to be in perfect condition when he and I could grab a beer and talk again.  I knew it'd be a while, but it wasn't impossible.

My eyes had started to feel heavy finally so I turned to hobble off towards my room.  Ross didn't stop me but halfway, I stopped to turn around.

"Hey, Ross,"

"Yeah?" he was putting the dirty dishes in the sink.

"Thanks," I told him.  "For this,"

"Anytime,"     

xxxxxxx

**What _is _the origin of the Oreo's name? I know I've read about it somewhere before but I just can't remember where…anyway…this was a weird chapter.  Haha.  But I had fun doing it.  More chappies soon!!**


	8. I can't seem to get a grip on myself

**sighs with satisfaction at the reviews Thanks as always to those who're supporting my story especially DrKerryWeaver and Jen and Llew and everyone else who've been so loyal in reading…lol…thanks so much. I already have the chapters lined up in my head and all I have to do is write them. Hope you keep on reading till it's finished! :)**

xxxxxxx

I went back to work on Monday. I'd already been gone a week and I couldn't afford any more absences. Besides, I couldn't stand to be just in the apartment all day anymore. I needed something to do, some other things to think about to distract me and take my mind off everything I wanted to forget. Monica was against it, of course, but she didn't try to stop me.

"Just promise me you'll call me if you need me, okay? If you need a ride home, or if your foot hurts or…or anything, okay?" she'd said, her hand on my arm before I'd left that morning.

"I promise," I'd told her, just to calm her down. It wasn't like I would go and call her for everything I can fix myself. She did have her own life to fix. Her pouring her attention on me was just pure Monica. _I_ was her distraction.

"Okay…" she'd said, not looking entirely convinced with my answer. "You sure you're okay? Because, you really don't have to go to work yet, you know…"

"No. no…I'm okay, I swear."

"Okay,"

"Okay,"

"Bye sweetie. Be safe," she'd tiptoed to kiss me and I'd given her a light kiss on the cheek.

Be safe. She'd never told me that before.

I'd gone on to work, and everything seemed to run the way it had always gone. Paperwork, phone calls, more paperwork…by lunchtime, my head was enveloped in pain as a migraine took over. Everyone else had gone to eat and I was alone in my office, holding my head between my hands with my eyes shut.

_Boom boom…_

The migraine had actually started that morning when I first entered the office. I'd ignored it and had just kept on working. By the middle of my paperwork it was actually like my brain had just exploded. It totally hurt and I even had to throw up in the men's room to gain a feeling close to normal.

_Boom boom…_

My head throbbed again. It was like a pair of African drums had implanted themselves within my skull.

_Boom boom… _

I felt sick. Really sick. Maybe I shouldn't have gone to work…

_Boom boom… _

I let out a low moan, squeezing my eyes more. I wanted to throw up again. I know I wasn't a picture of perfect health but I didn't realize that I had to pay _that _much. But it was most probably stress that was causing the pain…

_Boom boom… _

"You okay, big guy?" a voice said.

"Does it look like I'm okay?" I spat out, annoyed to hell at whoever had asked. "Joe, just leave me alone…"

My eyelids snapped up.

Joey?

What the hell?

The light blinded me and made searing pain travel through the nerves in my brain, almost making me hurl. I held it back, forcing myself to look around my office, gripping the edge of my desk until my knuckles turned white. There was no one inside with me but a few potted plants, a coat rack, a computer and everything else that came with normal offices.

Who had talked to me?

I thumped the side of my head with the bottom of my hand in an attempt to lessen the pain. Of course, it did no good, but I wasn't really paying attention to the migraine anymore.

My heart started to race along with my thoughts. The voice had sounded like Joey, but the more I thought about it, the more faded the memory of the sound of it was. I felt cold sweat break along my brow.

Had it been a ghost?

Or was I just losing my mind?

The latter sounded more convincing.

I shook my head to try and brush the thing off. I took deep, slow breaths, concentrating on the wood grains on my desk and trying to keep it together.

"Hey, you sure you're okay, buddy?"

The voice sounded again, and this time it echoed in my mind like I was in some psycho-stalker movie. My head snapped upwards, half-expecting to see Joey hiding behind the potted plant, giggling at how scared I had looked.

But there was no Joey hiding behind the plant and neither would there be a Joey to hide behind it in the future.

I was totally alone.

I was sure I was going nuts.

"Leave me alone!" I yelled at no one in particular. I gripped my head with my hands and clamped my palms over my ears. Maybe if I couldn't hear, no voice would speak…

"You okay?"

It came again, clearer this time, in my head. I rested my forehead on my desk and thumped it. Every thump brought pain which I hoped would drown out the voice.

"You okay?"

There it was again!

"No," I said through gritted teeth. "No, no, no, no…"

I kept thumping and thumping and thumping…

"Chandler?"

_Thump thump thump…_

_Boom boom BOOM…_

"Chandler!"

A hand gripped my shoulder and shook it. Hard.

"Leave me alone!" I yelled almost hysterically. I was afraid, nauseous and depressed at the same time and my actions were almost automatic. My hand flew up to swat the hand away. I was half-expecting it to hit air, but to my surprise, I hit flesh and bone.

"Hey!"

I lifted my head painfully and pushed to open my eyes. I was almost blind with pain and it took a while before my vision cleared a little and I could see a blurred version of Sharon, a co-worker of mine, no, actually only the part of her from the neck up, hovering above me, her face twisted into some frown.

"My God, you look awful," she commented.

I breathed a sigh of relief in reply, happy that she wasn't a ghost or something I didn't want to see.

"Thanks for the compliment," I replied, letting my head fall on my arms to rest. I felt her cool hands along the sides of my neck and on my forehead. I would've pushed them away if I had the sufficient strength.

"Have you taken anything? Are you okay, Chandler? You're all clammy…"

"I'll be fine, leave me alone,"

"I'm calling Monica…"

"No, no…" I tried to plead but I heard her dial and speak into the phone before I could move another inch.

"Hello? Monica Geller please," she said.

Great.

I closed my eyes to try and make myself feel better but ended up doing something else.

In the middle of the phone call to Monica, my stomach acids leapt to my throat and I threw up all over the carpet.

Xxxxxxx

**No, the voice wasn't a ghost. Haha, this isn't that kind of story. It's all in Chandler's head. There's gonna be a Mon and Chan part next…I know I've been neglecting that but don't worry, I meant for it to happen. Please r/r! :)**


	9. Somebody to hang on to

**"Chandler and Monica! Chandler and Monica!! Oh, my eyes!!!"**

** -Phoebe, _TOW Everyone Finds Out_**

****

**P.S. Thanks for the reviews!!Ü I really really look forward to them. Imagine, I keep reading them over and over when I get the chance, just to convince myself that they're for me. Lol, I am a sad creature…**

**xxxxxxx**

"You're sure you're okay?

I looked at Monica wearily as she sat by my side while I was lying on my back in the sofa back in the apartment. My first day back in the office had been a disaster. Monica had to come to work, pick me up off the floor, and get me cleaned up before she took me home where I had to drown my migraine in Tylenol. All my co-workers thought I had contracted some sort of disease, my boss was having second thoughts on keeping me and I was hearing voices.

So was I okay?

I didn't think so.

"I'll be fine," I told her, forcing a smile.

Monica sighed heavily and held my hands.

"Chandler, you do know that you can talk to me about anything, right?"

Oh, I knew where this was headed.

"Yeah," I said.

"So what's wrong, baby?" she pleaded quietly, her eyes begging me to tell her what was bothering me so she could fix it and make everything right again.

In normal cases it would work.

That time, I knew it just wouldn't.

I opened my mouth to speak but quickly closed it again.

"I can't," I admitted.

"Why not?" she stroked my hand as she spoke. "Chandler, I know you're hurt about everything that's happened, but it's not only you who's sad and angry. I'm sad too,"

I looked away, not wanting to expand the conversation but Monica, being Monica, pressed on.

"Tell me, Chandler. Talk to me. You need to let it out,"

I knew she meant well, and I loved her for it. I really wanted to tell her about everything but I just couldn't. I felt like a soda bottle that had just been shaken. My feelings were ready to be poured out on the floor but I wasn't quite prepared to clean up after the mess yet.

I didn't say anything and Monica just stayed there until I felt her give my hand a gentle pat.

"You call me if you need anything, okay?" she said.

I nodded, my arms now folded across my chest. I was way tired and certain parts of my body were aching. The migraine was still there, though it wasn't as powerful, and the compress Monica had placed on my head was helping a bit. The only thing I wanted to do was sleep until all the pain and hurt were gone.

"Okay. You get some rest now. I'll wake you up for dinner later,"

Monica kissed me on my forehead and stood up to leave. When she was gone, I settled into the couch and heaved a sigh. The ceiling was my distraction for a minute, but after a while, my attention suddenly moved to another thing.

My hand had been bandaged for over two weeks now. I hadn't messed around with it since everything happened. A while ago, Monica had changed the bandage since the old one was already dirty, with me not watching, of course. I held it slowly up to my face and studied it.

It didn't look any different. All my fingers were still there and they were all trembling. The new bandage was white and clean and held together by some sort of metal thing.

Should I…

Without much thought, my other hand rose up and started to unravel the bandage. I shut my eyes as I felt the gauze slowly fell onto my stomach. When I felt that my hand was finally free, I carefully took a peek at my palm.

A long, sore gash from the center of my pointer finger and middle finger up to near my wrist ran diagonally across my hand like some sort of angry, pink-red river. The very sight scared me to death and I hid my hand almost immediately after I saw the cut. It had the words 'Joey's dead because of you' written all over it.

I shut my eyes and forced myself to sleep. In my mind, all I saw was the cut, which took me back to the sidewalk where I lay as Joey died behind me. I could hear my heart pounding in my ears menacingly. It was like some sort of chant.

Joey's dead, you're not… 

_Joey's dead, you're not…_

_Joey's dead, you're NOT…_

I buried my head under the pillow it'd been resting on to try and drown out the voice. I wriggled and writhed on the sofa like some sort of epileptic, just to try and regain some peace within myself.

You're not… 

_You're not…_

_You're not…_

Xxxxxxx

I was outside. Fall leaves were blowing all over the place and a nice fall wind was breezing past me. I looked down. I was in my outside clothes and was standing on the sidewalk. I looked up and saw another version of myself in the middle of the road. The other Chandler was looking at his watch.

What the— 

I saw the cab as it came. I tried to yell at the other Chandler to get out of the way, but I couldn't speak. I couldn't even move. My hands were cemented to my sides the same way my feet were stuck to the ground. I was frozen, like I was doomed to watch the scene.

"Chandler! Hey, Chandler, watch out!!"

The yell seemed to echo around the whole area then, before the cab could hit the other Chandler, Joey appeared out of nowhere and shoved him out of the way.

I could see both things happening at once: the other Chandler falling the same way I did, just inches from where I stood, and how Joey stood unmoving from his spot, milliseconds before the cab collided with him with a sickening thud despite the howling screech of the brakes. It didn't seem to slow down and hit Joey with full-force.

The look on his face made a shiver run down my spine.

**_NO!!! _**my mind screamed so loudly, my lungs could almost burst. I wanted to stop it, but there was nothing I could do.

I watched as Joey flew up the hood and hit his head on the windshield, breaking the glass with the impact. He fell to the ground as the cab swerved to the side and crashed into a pole. Nothing broke his fall. He landed on broken glass and spilled blood. His blood. The street was a slippery crimson instead of a drab gray.

"NOO!!!" A scream rang through the still air. I saw Rachel rush out of Central Perk, her eyes wide with fright and panic and her hair flying behind her. Ross followed, the expression on his face a mixture of confusion and terror.

"JOEY!!!"

There were no other people around except for the four of us. The wind was still blowing, only it didn't feel as comfortable as it had always had. Every gust blew a chill through my bones.

"Oh my God!! Oh my God!!"

Rachel dropped to her knees by Joey's side and lifted his head onto her lap. Ross froze at the sight, looking nauseous and anxious at the same time. I watched Joey as he fought to breathe, staining the front of Rachel' sweater with his blood. If it had been a normal situation where nobody was hurt, Rachel would have freaked upon seeing her precious clothes soiled. But her attention was solely focused on Joey.

"NO!!"

I saw the other Chandler get on his feet and ran, limping, to where the three of them were. I saw the look on his face and I felt the fear he had in his heart. I saw as he went down on his knees with all the blood and glass everywhere and tried to talk Joey into not giving up. I saw as Joey struggled to speak as well as breathe.

I tried to shut my eyes. I didn't want to see anymore but I still saw everything.

Saw as Joey give a faint smile before he closed his eyes.

Saw as he stopped breathing.

Saw as he died.

Saw as the other Chandler cried.

_YOUR FAULT! _A voice screamed.

Xxxxxxx

My eyes flew open and I bolted upright on the sofa, gasping and sweating. I was in the apartment's living room, not outside. The lighting was dim and the sound of the shower running was the first thing I heard. I glanced around, making sure I was where I thought I was. The cushions, the coffee table, the magazines…

I buried my head in my hands to calm myself down. I felt like such a mess. I was confused, frightened and guilty…then all of a sudden, I was angry. Angry with myself, angry with Joey, angry at everything. When I looked up, I saw the still-healing wound on my palm, and I felt bitter hatred rise up my throat like poison.

I prodded at the wound with my finger and felt the pain shoot from my hand to the whole of my arm. I prodded it again and again and again…

_Sometimes, all you need is a little pain to remind you that you're alive, _a small voice inside of me said.

_Yeah, I'm alive, all right, _I answered, _but do I deserve this second life?_

No, I didn't think so.

I turned my head and saw a picture of me, Joey and Ross on the coffee table. It had been taken during a fishing trip just last year, with the three of us catching nothing but a lone trout that was so pathetic, we threw it back into the water after it was caught. The picture showed Joey in the middle, a wide smile on his face and with his arms around Ross' and my shoulders. My mouth was open in a laugh and I thought I never looked any happier. I stared at it for a minute, wishing from the bottom of my heart to be back in that moment again.

Then, the wish disappeared and my hand reached out, got the picture and hurled it at the wall. The glass shattered and the frame broke, but I didn't care. It had actually felt good throwing something, and I could feel my anger raring again, like a caged monster within me, roaring to get out.

I heard the shower stop and Monica rushed out almost immediately, dressed only in her bathrobe.

"Chandler!" she cried. I heard the panic in her voice. She stopped running when she saw the mess on the floor and me sitting on the couch, perfectly safe.

"Chandler," she said more gently, approaching me. "Baby, what happened?"

"Nothing," I said, not meeting her eyes. "God…"

I hung my head and saw Monica's hand as she placed it on my knee.

"Don't…" I said, pushing her hand away. I didn't want her to see me. I didn't want her to have anything to do with me.

"Chandler…"

"DON'T," I told her more firmly.

"Chandler, honey…"

"DON'T CALL ME THAT!" I exclaimed suddenly without thinking. I saw Monica jump back in surprise and immediately, I was sorry I had yelled at her, but I didn't take the words back.

"Just…please…leave me alone," I said more quietly before she could answer. I felt undeserving of Monica. Who was I to have this gorgeous woman as my future wife? I didn't deserve to have children with her, nor be under the same roof. I felt so dirty and Monica…she was perfect. She didn't need a mess like me to weigh her down.

"Excuse me?" she said, raising an eyebrow. She looked pissed. Or a mixture of pissed and pitiful.

"I'll…I'll just go," I said and stood up from the couch, but she pushed me down and I ended up on my butt again.

"No, you don't," she said firmly, the same way her mother would. Then, her voice grew soft. "Baby, what happened?"

She cupped my face in her hands and lifted it up. I didn't fight it. I was tired of fighting everyone else. Even though I'd tried to fight Monica too, it just never worked. She always won. I gave in and let her hold my face, but strained myself not to look at her.

"Honey, look at me," she told me gently. She turned my head towards her direction and was forced to gaze into her eyes: beautifully blue, like an ocean's. The moment I looked, I was lost.

"Honey, what happened?" she asked slowly. "Did…did you have a bad dream or something?"

I could feel the love in her tone. How much she cared for me, and how she wanted to make it all better. Just pure Monica. The Monica I love.

I didn't answer, but Monica pressed on.

"Are you okay? Was it a dream, baby? Are you hurt?" she started studying me. "The glass didn't cut you or anything?"

"Mon…Mon…I'm fine…" I assured her. "I'm okay,"

She nodded and released me. She'd been on the floor, kneeling in front, but then she moved to the coffee table, where she sat down, her hands positioned properly on her lap. I faced another direction.

We sat in silence for several minutes or so, then Monica took action again.

"I'm worried about you, Chandler," she told me. I looked at her.

"I'll be fine…" I said, lying through my teeth.

"No," she said convincingly. "No, you won't be fine. You will never be fine if you just shut yourself out from the rest of the world. From us. From me,"

I knew what she meant and it was true.

"Do you want to talk about it, baby? It will help you a whole lot, I promise. I…I can't stand to see you hurting like this, you know…"

I looked up in time to see two stray tears slide down her cheeks before she hastily brushed them away. At the sight, my anger at everything vanished and all I could see was Monica.

"If you don't want to talk or can't talk now, it's okay…but please, Chandler, please remember that I'm here and…and I'm not going anywhere and I'll always listen to you,"

She held my shoulders as she said the words, and by the ending, pulled me into a hug and kissed my cheek. I didn't move or react the whole time, even when she stood up to leave. But when I heard her picking up the broken glass on the floor, I immediately got up and went over to her.

"That's my fault," I said. "I'll clean it up,"

"No no, it's okay, I'm fine with it," Monica said, managing the glass expertly by picking it off of the floor as if they were raisins. I watched her for a while, noticing that she had a blank expression on her face. She didn't look happy I was there, on the floor near her, but she didn't look disappointed either.

My eyes fell on the picture as Monica collected the frame, and I felt a familiar twinge tug at my heart.

"I'm sorry," I said in a low voice. I deserved Monica an apology after all the stuff I'd pulled. I really felt rotten about the frame.

"Sorry for what?" came the question.

"I didn't mean to break it, you know…it just…happened," I said, fumbling for words to explain my behavior. "I'm sorry…I'll buy you a new one,"

"It's okay honey, I know you didn't mean to,"

She stood up to throw the glass away, leaving the picture on the floor. I heard her get out a trash bag and mess around with junk, then when I heard her coming back to get the rest of the broken glass, I looked at her, forcing myself to tear my eyes away from the picture.

I couldn't take it anymore. I was destroying myself from the inside out.

"Can we…can we talk now?" I asked slowly.

Monica looked surprised.

"What, honey?"

"Can we talk now? I mean…if it's okay…"

Immediately, Monica sat herself down on the floor beside me, leaving the glass unattended for the meantime.

"Sure honey, sure," she said. She looked at me expectantly. "But I wasn't forcing you to talk when I told you all that stuff a while ago."

"No, no, you didn't…I…" my throat constricted. "I just need to tell someone,"

As much as I didn't want to, I needed to. For the sake of my sanity.

"Okay," Monica nodded. "Take your time, baby,"

I didn't want to take my time. If I did, I'd chicken out and eventually never tell her anything. So I turned my mouth loose and let it do the talking. I didn't think. I just talked.

I told Monica everything. How I was blaming myself, that I heard Joey's voice, that I couldn't sleep or eat, that I thought of nothing else but Joey, the dream I had…everything. By the end, I was in tears, and Monica was holding me. I felt like a child again in her arms. I held onto her as if she'd vanish the moment I let her go. And Monica, thank God Monica, was the perfect listener. She didn't say anything the whole time I talked and took everything all in without judgment or advice.

"I…I feel so rotten inside. That I was a lousy friend and he…still he managed to not be like me, not be like stupid Chandler, who cared for nothing and no one aside from himself, to save me from a goddamn cab that should have left tread marks all over my face," I was blubbering all over the place. "I'm not worth saving…he was, and the rest of you guys, but dear God, not me…"

Monica held me tighter and rubbed her back.

"Oh baby," I could hear the tears in her voice, but sensed that she was keeping it all in so she could be strong for me. I wanted to tell her she didn't need to be strong. We could go through it together. No one needed to be the wall. "I wish you'd told me sooner so you didn't have to hurt as much…"

I wished so too, but now that I'd let it all out, I felt extremely lighter. I was glad that I didn't have to hide from her anymore. But there was still one other thing I wanted to discuss…

"Mon," I said, after my tears had calmed down. I'd pulled away and was currently looking hesitantly into her eyes.

"What is it, honey?"

She was beautiful, even in a bathrobe. She looked perfect. I knew what I was going to tell her was going to crush her, but it was absolutely necessary.

"I…I don't think I can push through…with the wedding at the date we planned it was going to be on," I said carefully, making sure I didn't lose eye contact.

There was an uncomfortable second of silence before Monica gave me an assured smile and told me, "Yeah…I've been thinking about that too…"

My thoughts went back to the accident. The plans had been put on halt too since the planner had died in the mishap. Our wedding was up in the air. I wanted to be married, of course, but not that February anymore. I didn't want to be wed still feeling miserable. I wanted it to happen when I was ready to be happy again, to move on and start a new life. It just seemed unfair to both Joey and Monica if I pushed through with the date we'd agreed upon.

"I…I still need time to sort things out," I admitted. "With myself and everything…I just can't be married now…"

Monica nodded understandingly. "We'll have it when we're ready. For now, let's just…let's just heal, okay?"

She pulled me into a hug and I melted in her arms. God, I was the luckiest guy to have her.

"Thank you," I whispered into her ear.

"Just remember that I love you and I don't blame you for anything," she whispered back.

Xxxxxxx

**I like the tandem of Monica and Chandler. They just seem to fit together so nicely. I felt sorry for Chandler having to go through his monsters alone so I put Monica in. They're so sweet, aren't they? Aaaaww…Ü More chappies up!**


	10. What happens now?

I've been enjoying this fic…I think I'll make more chapters!! Ü Thanks for all the reviews, you guys!

P.S. Sorry for the long wait…been busy…

**Xxxxxxx**

Thanksgiving dropped by before anyone knew it, even before anyone wanting it to, and the next thing I knew, the apartment was starting to smell like turkey again. It had all been done in a rush, as nobody had remembered on time, and Monica spent an entire day ricocheting off the walls like a stray bullet, struggling to get everything ready.

"I'll help if you want me to," I'd offered once, feeling useless. I was still on leave from work.

"No, no, honey, you just sit down and relax and I'll have all of this done by dinnertime, I promise. I'm okay," she'd told me while bringing the bowl of mashed potatoes to the counter.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, honey, I'm sure,"

I'd shrugged then had gone back to my room, leaving Monica alone to wage war with the turkey. For a long time, I just stared out the window, watching the sky change from blue to pink and orange then purple…thinking how beautiful and peaceful the city looked from where I was. I was miserable as I always am during Thanksgiving, but, due to everything that had happened, I was more miserable than I'd ever been. I guess you could say that I had done a bit better after talking to Monica, but it never really took any of the sadness away.

Thanksgiving.

It had been the holiday that usually screams 'Chandler!' the same way spring cleaning screams 'Monica!'. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that the holidays that concerned eating a whole lot of food, sitting around a warm fire and being happy was just hands-down 'Joey!'. Who else would be happy the rest of his day if you just gave him a sandwich made out of leftover turkey and gravy? The things that made Joey happy were usually around and more active during the holidays: food and friends.

It was our first Thanksgiving with just the five of us and there were a lot of unanswered questions in my mind.

_"Would the others pretend that nothing was wrong, or would they just eat quietly during the whole dinner and never talk?"_

_"Were we ready to even celebrate anything?"_

_"Were we thankful for anything?"_

_"Was there anything to be thankful for this year?"_

_"Would we end the holiday after dinner or would the other choose to linger around like they've always done?"_

_"Who was going to eat all the leftovers?"_

The last question made me sigh out loud. In an hour or two, the gang would be here in the apartment. I wondered how everything was going to turn out. If I had a choice, I wouldn't attend the dinner, but it would seem like the lowest honor I could give Joey. I sat, deep in thought about what I was going to do later, if I was going to speak or not.

An idea hit me unconsciously.

Maybe…just maybe…this year, I could try and actually _like _Thanksgiving.

Less than a second later, I snorted at my own idea. Who was I kidding? It wasn't only the holiday that ruined my family, it would also be the holiday that would remind me of the day I killed my best friend.

What was there to like about Thanksgiving anymore?

**Xxxxxxx**

"Anyone up for dessert?" Monica asked invitingly after the main course was polished off and everyone was leaning back into their seats to digest everything that was in their stomachs.

"I'll have…some," said Ross carefully, fully aware of how Monica could be if her cooking went to waste. From the look on his face, he was stuffed, but he didn't want his sister's wrath to be released.

"What is it?" asked Phoebe.

"Pumpkin and pecan pie," Monica returned to the table with two pie trays and plopped them in the middle. The smell reached my nostrils and I took the familiar fragrance in. If I were my normal self, I'd have two slices, no matter how stuffed I was. Monica knew this and looked at me.

"You want some, baby?"

"No…no, thanks," I answered quietly.

I was looking at my plate. The whole dinner had been a formal affair. Nobody laughed or smiled long enough and nobody said anything about Joey, though there had been times during the whole thing that there was a lull in the conversation and Rachel had almost blurted out "Joey---" but ended up with a "J—", stopping herself before she could complete his name. Like his name was something not meant to be said, like it was bad, like it was a curse. I felt a little mad at them for pretending, even though I had expected it. We were _friends, _for God's sakes. If there was something somebody wanted to say, they should say it and we'd go through it together.

Of course, those are only words. Doing them is much more difficult.

Ross, Phoebe and Monica began to eat their portions of pie. Rachel sat quietly in front of me, staring at her wineglass.

"Mon…" Phoebe said after a while, pushing her plate away. "I don't think I can finish this,"

"It's okay, Joey will…" Ross stopped in mid-sentence. I looked at him and saw that he appeared close to tears. "No no, never mind…"

There was silence again, and when the pie was gone and all the leftovers were on the table, we just sat and stared at the lot.

"Okay, is it just me or is no one enjoying this?" said Phoebe quietly after we had waited long enough. I was a little relieved when I heard her speak because if no one had, I was definitely going to crack under the strain.

No one answered and it wasn't surprising. No one wanted to say the wrong thing.

"Honestly, I don't think anyone's ready for any of this," Ross said, almost sounding as if he was talking to himself. "I mean…I know I need a little more time…"

Rachel suddenly burst into tears as she held her wine glass, startling me a little. Instinctively, Ross reached out to comfort her. Rachel accepted his gesture and didn't push him away. In fact, she held on to him even more.

"I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry for crying but…I miss him so much, you know? He…He just…oh, he was the only one who could get me to stop crying and who's gonna do that now?" Rachel wailed, burying her face with her napkin.

I felt as everyone took a careful look at me. I pretended as if I didn't see them.

"It's okay, Rach, it's okay…" Ross said.

I suddenly didn't feel well.

"Look, you guys, I think I'm gonna have to go to bed early or something…I'm a little tired…" I said, standing up. I caught Monica's eye and she gave me this little nod.

I started to walk towards my bedroom when, all of a sudden, Phoebe exclaimed, "Okay, no more of this!"

I stopped then turned around. The others looked as if they wanted to shush her. I opened my mouth to speak but she was already way ahead of me.

"I've had it. I'm tired of being sad!" she cried. "I know, I know this is a tough time for all of us but don't you guys realize that…that our sadness isn't doing anything for Joey? He's weighed down by us and we can never give him peace if we keep feeling sad for him because we shouldn't! We're actually feeling sad for ourselves because we won't be able to see him anymore but we should be happy for him!"

Phoebe's last words sounded so choked.

"He's free, you guys. He's free."

I saw how her eyes shone at the last part and how huge her smile was. I could feel how she was genuinely happy for Joey, and I was happy for her for feeling that way.

At least someone was finally making some real sense.

****


	11. Nothing's happy anymore

**Thanks for all the reviews, you guys! You make 'em, I make this! Ü**

**Xxxxxxx**

The air was cold and a light drizzle was falling gently over New York as I limped slowly down the grave-lined path with my eyes to the ground and my hands in my pockets. I shivered despite the layers of clothing I had on. I felt weak and vulnerable, like I'd fall sick any minute, but I kept on going, walking where my feet would take me. My head was spinning and I really wasn't sure where I was headed, but in the back of my mind I knew where I was supposed to go. I just hoped my feet knew where that somewhere was.

_"What we need is closure…You guys need to accept what's happened. Let yourself be happy again. Joey won't mind," _Phoebe had told us during Thanksgiving dinner. Nobody had commented of course. Everyone knew she was right, nobody just knew how exactly to move on, including me.

I watched as my breath came out as little clouds and toyed with the thought of going home to my mother to rest. Long Island's where I can get my much-needed rest most definitely, but the idea that my mother and her countless lovers would be my constant companions was enough to make me reject the scheme almost straight away. No way. My mother isn't anyone to be counted on when it comes to things like these.

I came to a stop. I felt my cheeks burning and my eyes watering from the cold, plus my nose was starting to run. I was out of breath, even though I'd only been walking for a little while, and I was feeling sort of confused. It was nearing 1:00 by my watch and none of my friends knew where I was. I'd snuck out of the house while Monica was asleep in bed, tired from cleaning up the whole night last night, and left my cellphone in the apartment. I didn't plan on getting anywhere specific. All I wanted was a little air to clear my head. Then, suddenly, I was in a taxi, heading straight for the place I didn't think I would set foot in anytime in the near future.

Something in what Phoebe had said struck me and I was determined for closure. I was bent on getting my own peace as well as for Joey's, but there was something holding me back. Somehow, the farther I walked from the cemetery gates, the more I felt that I was in the wrong place.

No. I had to do this.

I forced myself to start walking again, my ears starting to feel quite numb from the chill. My eyes were stinging from the cold and were actually already starting to water. I wanted to puke. My body was already yelling at me to stop and go home. I didn't listen to it. I just kept on going.

"Agh!" I suddenly tripped on a fallen branch I didn't notice was there and almost completely lost my balance. I made windmills with my arms to keep myself on my feet as I lunged forward. If I had fallen, I would have landed face-first on a gravestone.

"Hey hey, watch it, son," somebody placed a firm grip on my arm and helped me stay up. The first thing I saw of him was his hand, which was all veined and splotched, but he sure had a strong grip. "Careful there,"

I looked up and saw who the person was: a middle-aged man in an old brown jacket, a faded cap, jeans, boots and a plaid shirt. He was looking at me as if he expected me to collapse any second.

"Thanks," I said as I straightened up and brushed imaginary dust off my own coat.

"You all right? What are you doing here? You look like you should be in bed," he said, taking off his cap and brushing back the silver hair underneath it, even though it didn't look messed up.

"I'm great, I'm okay," I tried to assure him. "I just tripped on a branch…"

I shook my head to clear it. The cemetery started to come into clear view again.

"That's better," I commented, mostly to myself.

"Take it easy…You don't look too well. Do you have someone with you?" the guy asked.

"No, I'm alone…I'm…I'm visiting a friend," I told him. I didn't really know why I was even noticing him, but it wasn't really like I had a choice. I was still feeling too dazed to walk. For a second, I didn't even know where I was or where I was going.

"A friend, eh?" the guy looked at me with an expression of sympathy. "Yeah, well, we're all here to visit someone, aren't we?"

I wanted to ask him whom he was there for, but decided against it. I barely even knew the guy. I'd met him by tripping on a tree branch, for crying out loud.

The wind whistled past my ears. Again, I regretted not bringing along a hat to keep my freezing head warm.

"I'm visiting my son and my grandson," The guy's eyes suddenly became cloudy as he started to talk, as if he was gripped by some sad memory. He avoided my gaze. "They were run over by some son of a bitch on their way home for Thanksgiving dinner. It's been fourteen years…" He drew in a breath, but he looked really upset all of a sudden, with his lips held tight. I suddenly felt uncomfortable. "But I still can't take that they're not here anymore, y'know? That some son of a bitch took them both away…the guy wasn't even caught,"

I heard the roughness and anger in his voice and felt myself back away a little, suddenly threatened. He looked darkly at the ground, his hands shoved inside the pockets of his jeans. He looked as though he was going to hit something any minute. I was surprised when he kept his composure.

"I'll kill that son of a bitch when I find him…I've been grieving for fourteen years…" his voice shook as he spoke. "Fourteen years…"

I fidgeted uncomfortably. I felt as if _I_ was the mysterious murderer of his son and grandson. I actually felt guilty, then was overcome by the feeling that Joey's father was probably thinking the same things of me, only it's worse because he _knew _that I was to blame for the accident.

I wanted to leave.

"What happened to your friend?" asked the man, turning to me. I gulped.

"He…It was an accident…he was run over too," I said, my voice trembling.

"Did you get the guy?" said the man, his eyes narrowing, as if he'd get satisfaction if I answered positively.

I couldn't speak. How could I admit that I was the murderer of my own friend?

"It was an accident…" I pressed on. "Anyway, I have to go…nice talking to you…"

I was about to walk away when the man put a hand to my shoulder and gripped it.

"Take care of yourself, son. And I hope you find your peace. I hope whatever son of a bitch caused your misery rots in hell,"

His gray eyes shone as he spoke. I nodded uncomfortably. I had to get away from him.

I managed to walk away as quickly as possible, still freaked out by the guy I'd just encountered. He _had _affected me, though. My heart was beating faster than it had a while ago, and a sinking feeling was settling in my stomach.

Was Joey's father thinking the same way about me?

I gulped again and again as I kept walking, and my paranoia got worse. I felt terrible. It was only now that I realized that I couldn't see any member of the Tribianni family again. Yesterday, I was just beginning to think that if I met any of Joey's sisters on the street, I could manage a wave or a glance or whatever. Any sort of contact.

Now I finally realized that they will always be hurting and whenever they see me, they'd probably just want to lunge at me and kill me. I shuddered. I'd never felt so hated before. And by my best friend's family. It was like my arm or leg had been severed off.

It hurt, really, but it wasn't like it was their fault. They had a right to be angry. They had a right to hate me. They had a right to wish that I die a slow, painful death to even out what I did to Joey. My only right was to accept it.

I had to accept that, in their eyes, I would always be a murderer. That was how it's going to be for the rest of our lifetimes. Never mind what Joey's mom said; she probably wished that I'd die in the most tragic way possible every morning she wakes up and remembers that Joey's dead.

I wanted to throw up.

**XXXXXX**

The rain fell slowly at first, then it came in sheets. I was soaked by the time I made it to Joey's grave, but I wouldn't have chosen any other kind of weather to accompany my visit. Water dripped from my nose and the other parts of my face, accompanying the tears that were almost invisible. I was glad it rained because no one would be able to tell I was crying out in the open. I stood like a statue in front of his gravestone, almost not believing what I was seeing:

_Joseph Francis Tribianni_

_The best son, brother and friend_

_We love you, honey_

I let out a small sob. It was a simple slab of marble with words that fit him perfectly. Surrounding it were all sorts of knickknacks that the others must have left behind: candles, flowers, another daisy crown. After reading the words written on the marker, I felt pain somewhere deep inside me.

I really missed the guy.

"Hey Joe," I managed to choke out, sniffling back my tears. My voice came out like a whisper. "It's me… I know you might be mad at me because this is the first time I visited you…but you should be pretty proud of yourself, man. Is there anyone else I'd stand out in the freezing rain for on a day I should be working?"

I tried to smile, even a little, but the sight of the gravestone staring back at me with no words to say was too much. I shut my eyes and bowed my head.

"I-I…I'm so sorry, Joe…Shit…Im s-s-so sorry…"

I'd gone down on my knees as if I was begging for forgiveness. I grasped at the grass, eager to get some sort of answer. I felt the rain as it pounded on my back and the cold as it seeped into my skin, but I didn't care.

I missed him so much, it hurt. I missed telling him off, I missed not seeing him whenever I came out for breakfast every morning, I missed how he whined, I missed how he said so much stupid stuff that sometimes I just wanted to hit him to shut him up.

"Wh-Why'd you leave, man?" I croaked. "You should've l-let me die…Goddamnit you sh-should've let me die…"

I gripped the grass tightly, wanting to shake the ground and force Joey into answering me back. I hit the soil with my fist, hard, causing rainwater to splash all over the place. My teeth were chattering, my noise was running, my legs were too weak to support me but I didn't give a damn. I wanted an answer. I wanted someone to tell me why things had happened the way they did. I wanted someone to tell me that Joey was okay. I wanted someone to be angry at.

I wanted someone to bring my best friend back.

**XXXXXX**

**This is Chandler's attempt for closure, btw, if you didn't get what he was doing in the graveyard. He fails, obviously. Tell me whachoo guys think, and I'll come up with the next on as soon as I can! :D**


	12. I needed you

**I'm sorry if my writing keeps making you guys cry, but I'm glad you like it despite that though! Thanks for all the reviews!Ü (btw, thanks to BingIsBack for making it clear where the oreo's name came from! I enjoyed reading it Ü)**

**Xxxxxxx**

My body felt like it was on fire. I couldn't move; it was as if every part of me weighed a thousand pounds heavier. I couldn't open my eyes; my eyelids felt as if they were stuck. I couldn't speak; my mouth was as dry as cotton. I was half-awake, but barely. A haze of events ran through my mind like a dizzying movie: Phoebe finding me in the cemetery, crooning to me the way she would to a child, putting me inside a cab, taking me to the hospital…

_Mild hypothermia_, I heard them say, _What was he doing there anyway?_

I heard my friends mumble an incoherent reply.

_If this behavior continues, you may have to make him see a psychologist…_

"Chandler?" I felt someone's cool hand stroke my forehead. She smelled faintly of lavender and honey. "Honey, are you awake?"

Monica's voice sounded clogged, as if she'd been crying, and her hand was trembling. I wanted to wrap my arms around her. I felt terrible I made her cry, but I couldn't really express my feelings as much as I wanted given my current state.

I fought to move my head and felt the pillow placed beneath it. Where was I?

I forced my eyes to open a crack then had to shut them quick again as a bright white light hit me and sent a sharp pain surging through my head. I felt as if I'd been tackled by a monster truck. I wanted to yell or groan, but all I could manage was a soft moan.

"Honey, you okay?" Monica asked worriedly, clutching my hand. "Ross, could you close the blinds, please? He must've been blinded by the light,"

A couple of snaps were heard. The blinds were closed.

"Honey, can you open your eyes? The light's gone now…" Monica almost pleaded.

I tried again. I succeeded, but I couldn't open my eyes all the way. Through the slits, I saw Monica through a haze. It was as if a fog was in the room. Her eyes were all red and puffy and her hair was in disarray. She looked as if she had just jumped out of bed, but to me, she looked more beautiful than ever. A small rush of ecstasy ran through my veins. I wanted her near me.

"Oh honey, you had us all worried…" she said, her tears apparent on her cheeks, only it was barely noticeable with the presence of her smile. "You've been out for two days,"

Ross stood behind Monica. He raised an arm. "Hey, man," he greeted with a tight toothless smile. "Glad to see you up,"

"You're in the hospital," Monica told me. "Phoebe found you…she called us after she took you here," She stroked my hair with long, cool fingers, her voice dropping to a whisper. "You had me so scared,"

Her blue eyes met mine and I started to utter an apology, but all that came out were dry, hacking coughs. I had to shut my eyes to struggle to breathe. Monica clapped my back to help me. My chest felt as if it was going to explode.

"Here, here, drink a little water…" she put a glass of water to my lips and I let a bit of the liquid into my mouth to wet it. It felt as if someone had a grip on my lungs and wouldn't let go. I couldn't breathe properly with all the coughing. The water didn't do anything to help.

"Breathe baby, come on," Monica urged me. "C'mon, baby…"

I drew in breaths in gasps, and when my lungs decided not to torture me anymore, I collapsed back down on the bed, exhausted by my efforts. I shivered as Monica wiped the thin sheen of sweat that had collected on my face. I felt hot and cold all at the same time. I rolled over to my side and curled into a ball in an attempt to not feel any discomfort. My head hurt, I didn't want to open my eyes anymore. I just wanted to sleep and not wake until I felt better.

"Go to sleep, baby," Monica told me soothingly. "You'll feel better soon…Everything's going to be better tomorrow…"

That was the last thing I heard before I shut down and gave in to the exhaustion that had been plaguing me ever since I first regained my senses.

**XXXXXX**

The next time I awoke, I felt a little better. My head didn't throb as much as it had the last time I was awake, and now I could open my eyes almost normally, but I guess it was due to it being nighttime and all and the only light in the room was coming from the lamp on the table beside my bed. It gave everything an eerie, yellowish glow, like I was in a dream. A quick glance around with my head from my lying-down position confirmed what I had suspected: No one was in the room with me.

I struggled to pull myself into an upright stance; my back was beginning to hurt from being in an immobile position for so long. I almost regretted doing it: the moment I was back on my ass and leaning against the headboard of the bed, my head began swimming and every single joint in my body started to ache. I stayed still for a minute to let it pass then began to make my way slowly towards the edge of the bed. I didn't know what I was going to do, but I just let myself move. I had a strange longing to be somewhere else, to not be stuck in a bed, to just run and run and run until I pass out.

I shut my eyes as soon as I felt the carpet underneath my feet. My knees shook at my first attempt to stand up, then gave way and sent me back down on the bed. I tightened my grip on the IV stand.

It was too cramped…I had to see the outside. I had to see the city. I had to see the sky.

Joey had loved how New York looked at night.

With a sudden burst of energy, I forced myself to stand and paid no attention to my swaying gaze and buckling knees. I put my weight on the IV stand and relied on it to help me get to the window. Thank God it wasn't that far.

I raised the blinds high enough for me to see. The city was a beautiful sight, with brightly lit lights from Times Square to Broadway, like a giant carnival that never seemed to fall asleep. The traffic was noiseless from where I stood but I was sure that once I opened the window, the loud blaring of horns would make its way to my ears. Everyone rushing to get home. Everyone hurrying to get someplace. Everyone always hustling to do what they think they have to do and go where they think they have to go…

That's why when somebody gets hurt from all the rushing, nobody actually cares. Life goes on, the bastards. They all continue with their miserable lives as if nothing happened…

A small gasp from the door made me turn my head. At first I didn't see who it was since the light from the hallway made the person look like a dark, shapeless form in the doorway. When it spoke, I wasn't sure whether I was supposed to feel happy or uncomfortable.

"My God, Chandler," my mother said as she stepped into the room. She looked alarmingly disheveled, not at all the woman I'm used to seeing. "You look absolutely terrible,"

**XXXXXX**

I wasn't used to seeing my mother like this: fussing over me, worried. She wasn't like that. She never was. If she had been, even once in her life, felt or acted like a true mother, then I never saw or felt it.

She walked briskly towards me, her hands to her mouth, looking as if she were about to cry. Once she got to me, she kept touching my face, fondling it, as if it was the first time she saw me. Her eyes twinkled, though I didn't know with what. I was almost uncomfortable with her presence.

"What are you doing hear?" I croaked out, my throat so dry I could make it bleed just by talking. I swallowed a wad of saliva to help me form words. It sounded more of an accusation to me than a question, but I didn't beat myself up about it. I was really curious as to why she was there. Did she suddenly realize she was a mother one day and decided to call on me only to decide I wasn't there?

"Honey…" my mother held my face in her hands. A trace of her Chanel perfume caught my nostrils and made me slightly dizzy. Her crimson-painted nails dug gently into my skin. "I came as soon as I heard…Monica was so scared…God forbid, I was terrified…"

"Heard of what?" I asked, my brow furrowing.

"Of you being put in the hospital…"

I felt a mix of anger and sadness course through me the same way electricity would. I tensed and held on to the IV stand tighter than I wanted to hold it.

"So all it takes is me being put in a hospital for you to come?" I said in the angriest tone I could manage. It came out as soft as a whisper but you could hear the fire I was injecting into it. My mother looked alarmed at my behavior. I don't think I'd ever snapped at her before.

"Chandler, you're still sick," she said in a calming tone. "C'mon, I'll help you get back into bed…"

"No, I won't!" I hissed defiantly. "Mother, Joey's dead. He's dead because of me. Because of me, no one will ever see or hear him again. No one will ever talk to him again, nobody in the future will ever know him. He will never get married, he will never have kids and his parents will never see another generation of Tribiannis. That's because of _me,_"

My anger helped me stay on my feet and forced me to look my mother straight in the eye. I wanted to accuse her of so many things. She, on the other hand, only looked on patiently, though the expression on her face told me that she was shocked by the sudden outburst.

"Didn't you know? Didn't you know that he died?" I asked, a hint of desperation in my voice. Mother looked at me, then held my face again.

"I knew, Chandler, of course I knew…" she started to say. That was all I needed to know. I cut her off before she could finish.

"Then why didn't you come? Didn't you care? Didn't you care for him at all? Didn't you care enough to see how I was doing?"

I said each statement one after another, not able to stop myself. A part of my misery had come from my anger at my mother, who was always so foolishly wrapped up in herself to mind what was happening to me. For once, I had just wanted her to come and be a mother. My mother. Not just Nora Bing.

I calmed down a little after I barricaded her with my questions, then used a softer tone for my next query.

"Did you know," I asked, looking at her face so intently it hurt me to see her standing there, "that Joey's Mom came to me the night he was buried and talked to me?"

What I realized from what I was saying surprised me, and before I could stop myself, I said it out loud.

"I didn't need her there, Mom. I needed you. Where were you? Where were you, Mom?"

Tears stung my eyes when I heard what I said. Never in my life had I admitted that I needed my mother. I always thought I could always survive without either of my parents. Apparently, I can't, as what my unconscious mind bluntly stated.

Crystal tears brimmed Mother's eyes. She gave me a fond expression, as if I were her prized china doll or something.

"I was there…I was always there…You just didn't see me. I watched his funeral…I saw you walk away. I wanted to follow you, darling, but I didn't. I knew you needed your space. I knew you wanted to deal with things alone," She swallowed, then gave me a genuine smile. "I love you Chandler. You're my son. I'd never leave you alone,"

"I wanted you to be there," I admitted almost bitterly. "I waited for you to come. You never came…"

"And I was waiting for you to come looking for me," she pulled me into a hug. "I'm sorry darling, I'm sorry. This is my fault. I should have just acted like a mother and see how you were doing even before Joey's funeral…I was there once during his wake. I hoped to see you, but you weren't there. I figured you were still taking things one at a time, like you always do,"

She kissed me over and over again. For once, I didn't pull her away. My fatigue was gone, and I wept softly, almost in a relieved way, as I took in her scent. It was my Mother's scent, _her _scent, that I could never find anywhere else. I felt so safe with her there. All of a sudden I had this crazy urge to tell her absolutely everything.

"My poor baby," she rubbed my back. "I'm sorry…I'm sorry…"

"M-Mom, I'll never see him again…" I said shakily. "I can't bring him back…I can't…I can't take that h-he's gone…"

She held me, and even though I was taller than her, I felt her protection over me as if I were a kid again.

"Ssshh…ssshhh…C'mon, let's get you to bed, then we'll talk about it if you like, okay?"

With her to support me, I made it in good time to the bed. Once I was on it, exhaustion crept into me again, slowly but surely. My Mother sat beside the bed and held my hand. Her skin was cool and refreshing.

"I don't want to go through this anymore," I murmured, my eyes half-closed and growing heavier by the minute.

"Darling, you can choose not to be like this," Mother told me as she stroked my hand. "You can choose not to be unhappy,"

"But that's what I feel like I deserve," I said. "I killed him, didn't I? I deserve some kind of punishment…"

I could hear the sickening crunch of Joey's body colliding with the cab in my ears. In my nose and throat I could smell and taste the metallic tang of his blood. The road, black from blood, was a sight I wasn't going to forget anytime soon.

"Honey," Mother started gently, "Joey cared for you as much as you care for him. If he knew…if he knew you were unhappy, you'd be making him suffer even more. I know you don't want that,"

She sounded so motherly that I barely recognized her if she wasn't sitting in front of me.

"What can I do?" I asked in desperation. "I want to move on…I want this to be over…but I can't. It's like…it's like I'm not allowed to, Mom,"

"In your own time, you will. But you have to decide when. You've always been good with these kinds of things, honey. Everything happens for a reason. Don't…don't lock yourself from the outside and the memories. Let them come and let yourself grieve. When you've grieved enough, you'll know,"

I managed to smile. "I didn't know you knew how to say these kinds of things,"

Mother shrugged, smiling slightly. "I'm a writer. I get ideas from real life,"

I felt a little better about the whole situation. "Keep telling me stuff," I urged my mother. I didn't want to accept her ideas since I still felt resentful about the whole accident, but what she was saying had a point all the same. I was growing so tired of being miserable all the time. I wished I were back in the days where I could still laugh and smile freely whenever I wanted without feeling guilty.

"Just think about the happy times. When you happen to think that you'll never have them again, remember that memories aren't meant to be repeated. They're meant to be one-of-a-kind,"

Memories spread through my mind like wildfire.

**_Ross: _**_I'm sorry I yelled. I want you there, I need you there. Look, what, what can I do that can show you how much, how much I want you to be there.  
**Joey: **You could drink the fat.  
**Ross: **Hi, welcome, to an adult conversation. _

**_Joey: _**_Remember when you where a kid and your Mom would drop you off at the movies with a jar of jam and a little spoon?   
**Rachel: **You're so pretty._

**_Joey: _**_Alright Ross, look. You're feeling a lot of pain right now. You're angry. You're hurting. Can I tell you what the answer is?  
(Ross gestures his consent.)  
**Joey: **Strip joint!_

I had to grin at the last memory. I could picture Joey saying the exact same words to me.

God he was fun.

"There, see, you're smiling already," Mother smiled along with me.

"Thanks, Mom," I told her genuinely.

She kissed my hand, then rubbed it to rid it of the lipstick like she always did when I was a kid.

"God has His ways," she said softly.

I had to open my eyes and look at her at her last remark.

"I thought you didn't believe in God," I said, amazed.

"I didn't," she told me. "Then I got a call about my only son being in a hospital so I started praying for the first time in my life to anyone who could hear me. The first one to answer them was God,"

I became curious. "What did you pray for?"

Mother looked at me with a secretive smile playing on her lips. "I just asked him to send down a special angel to help bring my baby boy back. To help him smile,"

I gazed at her in wonder. This didn't seem like my mother. She kissed me again, this time, tears making their way down her cheeks.

"You're very lucky, honey," she said softly, looking at me happily. "You gained a guardian angel of a best friend,"

**XXXXX**

**Phew! That took a while to do! Ü Anyway, as with Joey's Mom, I haven't seen the episode where Chandler's Mom joins in the fun so I don't really know how to write her. I did my best though so I hope you like it! Everyone needs their Mom, even grown kids like Chandler! I got the quotes from the F.R.I.E.N.D.S. show from …there're a lot there and some will make you laugh out loud!Ü Anyway, thanks for all who've reviewed so far! I love reading 'em seriously. It brings me such joy! Hahaha Ü**


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